K^v-^,  /<£  yZ-ujrc^-u/"" 

f\  X'        *"**v 

OL 


STUDENT   AND    SINGER 


FRA    DIAVOLO 


STUDENT  ANIX  SINGER 


THE 


REMINISCENCES    OF    CHARLES   SANTLEY 


"  Les  premieres  impressions  de  1'adolescencc /tte  s'dgXfcent 
pas ;  elles  aident  A  comprendre  les  volontes,  leB^paj^les,  les 
actes  de  1'age  mtir." — PERE  DIDON  . 


MACMILLAN    AND    CO. 

AND     LONDON 
1892 

All  rights  reserved 


COPYRIGHT,  1892, 
BY  MACMILLAN  AND  CO. 


TYPOGRAPHY  BY  J.  S.  CrsHiNG  &  Co.,  BOSTON,  U.S.A. 
PRESSWORK  BY  BERWICK  &  SMITH,  BOSTON,  U.S.A. 


ML 


TO 

THOSE   WHO    HAVE    TAKEN    AN    INTEREST    IN 
MY    PROFESSIONAL   CAREER 

E  Oclurate  tfjcsr  |Jncjrs 

THIS  BEING 
THE  ONLY  RETURN'  I  CAN  MAKE  TO  THEM 

AS  A  BODY 

FOR   THE    INVARIABLE   KINDNESS   AND   COURTESY 
THEY    HAVE    SHOWN    ME 


PREFACE 

I  NEVEK  had  any  intention  of  submitting  my 
memoirs  to  the  public ;  it  is  only  at  the  solicitation 
of  numerous  acquaintances  I  do  so  now.  So  far 
was  I  from  harbouring  such  a  notion  that  I  have 
not  preserved  any  notes,  programmes,  or  data  to 
aid  me ;  with  few  exceptions,  I  have  written  them 
from  memory. 

* 

I  have  no  pretension  to  sufficient  literary  qualifica- 
tion for  book-writing ;  I  have  an  antipathy  to  auto- 
biographies, with  one  exception,  that  of  Benvenuto 
Cellini.1  His  style  is  not  polished,  at  times  un- 
couth ;  he  records  his  merits  and  his  failings.  I 
have  heard  him  called  egotistic  ;  but  surely,  a  man 
possessing  talents  of  such  a  rare  order  as  he  did  is 
not  entitled  to  the  appellation,  if  he  states  unmis- 
takable facts  concerning  his  artistic  skill,  adventures, 
and  exploits.  Some  of  his  failings  he  might  have 

1  I  speak  of  Cellini \s  <>\vn  work,  not  any  translation. 

vii 


via  PREFACE 

suppressed  with  advantage  to  his  memory,  but  no 
doubt,  in  recording  them,  he  has  shown  his  intention 
to  give  an  honest  account  of  himself. 

I  have  endeavoured  to  follow  Cellini's  plan  of 
jotting  down  any  reminiscences  and  reflections 
plainly,  to  the  best  of  my  ability,  and  I  will  be  quite 
satisfied  if  they,  to  whom  I  have  dedicated  them, 
find  them  sufficiently  interesting  to  wade  through. 


CHAPTER   I 

PAGE 

Tin-  Sea:  its  Charms  and  Drawbacks  —  An  Old  Salt's  Opin- 
ion —  Birth  and  Early  Resolve  to  be  a  Sailor  —  Voyage  to 
the  Isle  of  Man  —  Later  Voyages  and  their  Discomforts  — 
Early  Surroundings  and  Antecedents  —  My  Father's  Con- 
temporaries—  Hatton  and  Sivori  —  Hatton  at  the  "Little 
Liver"  —  A  Double  Inheritance:  Music  and  Nervousness 

—  My  First  Song  —  The  Tortures  of  School  Recitation  —  A 
Quakeress's  Practical  Joke  and  its  Results  —  Stage-struck 
at  Five   Years   Old  —  Dramatic  Aspirations  —  Dislike  fcr 
Music  only   Superficial  —  First   Public  Appearance  in  the 
Choir  of  the  Baptist  Chapel  —  Profound  Effect  of  an  Or- 
chestra in  Church  —  My  Awakening  to  the  Power  of  Music 

—  My  Debts  to  Haydn  —  A  Clumsy  Conductor        .        .     1-14 

CHAPTER  II 

Youthful  Aspirations  and  Subsequent  Disillusionment  —  Ar- 
tistic Cant — The  Need  of  Earnestness  —  The  Singer's  Diffi- 
culty—  First  Public  Solo,  Christinas  Day,  1848  —  Bass  or 
Tenor'.'  —  Desire  to  play  the  Violin  —  I  join  an  Amateur 
Orchestra  —  "An  Accomplished  Violinist!" — Elected  a 
Performing  Member  of  the  Liverpool  Philharmonic  Society 

—  Performance   at  an   Eisteddfod  —  The  Dangers  of  the 
Stick  —  Performance  of  the  '•  Elijah  "  —  Overwhelming  Im- 
pressions —  My  First  ••  Domino"  — Dihiculties  of  the  Dress 
Question  —  Viardot  Garcia  and  Ronconi  —  Ronconi's  Dra- 
matic Genius —  Lablache  and  Mario  —  Journey  to  London 
in  1851  — Still    Singing   Tenor  —  Joseph    Lidd's    Friendly 

ix 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Encouragement  —  Elected  Principal  Second  Violin  in  the 
"  Societa  Armonica " — My  Excess  of  Zeal:  a  Second 
"Domino"  —  Unsuccessful  Attempt  to  join  the  Philhar- 
monic Orchestra  —  I  join  the  Basses  —  Public  Appearances 
—  Stockhausen  and  Standigl 15-32 


CHAPTER  III 

Curl  Formes'  Influence  upon  me  —  My  Ignorance  of  Regis- 
ters —  The  Mistakes  of  Singing  Masters  :  Jean  de  Reszke, 
Mario,  and  Sims  Reeves  —  A  Plague  of  Doctors  —  Officious 
Friends  predict  my  Approaching  Decease  —  The  Monotony 
of  Business  —  A  Momentous  Decision  —  My  Farewell  Con- 
cert —  Sims  Reeves'  Encouragement  —  Start  for  Italy, 
October,  1855  —  The  Tyranny  of  Fashion — The  Art  of 
Smoking — Mario's  Fondness  for  Tobacco  .  .  .  33-45 


CHAPTER    IV 

Farewell  to  Liverpool  —  Lack  of  Appreciation  in  my  Native 
Town  —  Experiences  on  my  Journey  —  A  Breakfast  at 
Havre  —  I  witness  a  Performance  at  the  Paris  Opera  Co- 
mique  —  Cruvelli  at  the  Italian  Opera  —  Journey  to  Basle 
—  Passage  of  the  St.  Gothard  —  Arrival  at  Milan  —  Scene 
at  the  Railway-station  —  The  Milanese  Dialect  —  An  At- 
tack of  Home-sickness  —  Travellers,  Old  and  New  Style  .  46-61 


CHAPTER  V 

My  Lodgings  —  Milan  under  Austrian  Rule:  Vexatious  Re- 
strictions —  A  Humorous  Episode :  Pollini,  Capponi  and 
Galli  —  A  Trying  Interview  with  the  Police  —  A  Lucky 
Letter  —  My  Interview  with  Lamperti  —  Introduction  to 
Nava  —  Xava's  Antecedents  —  His  Wide  Culture  and 
Kindly  Nature,  and  Honest  Advice  —  Singing  >•.  (iabbling 
— Duets  with  Ronconi  and  Belletti — Nava's  Views  on  Prog- 
ress—  His  Kindly  Interference  —  Halcyon  Days  —  My  Les- 
sons with  Nava :  Conversation  as  well  as  Singing  —  His 


CONTENTS  xi 

PAGE 

Family  —  The  Dialects  of  Lombardy  —  Locomotion  as  an 
Aid  to  Study  —  My  Daily  Walk  —  Milanese  Soldiery  — 
Performances  at  the  Caimobiana  —  Giuglini  as  a  Singer  and 
Actor  —  Marini  and  Delle  Sedie  —  The  Scala  Orchestra  - 
Ristori  ........  tW-77 


CHAPTER    VI 

Vocalizzi  and  Solfeggi  —  Italian  Vowel  Sounds  —  Is  Italian 
easy  to  sing?  —  My  First  Piece  —  The  Value  of  Concerted 
Vocal  Music  —  ••  Donna  Pacilica  "  —  My  Fellow-pupils : 
Luigia  Perelli  and  Luigia  Pessina  —  My  Friends  the  Mara- 
nis  —  ••  II  Signor  Inglese  " — The  Scala  Programme,  1855- 
56  —  I  become  a  Subscriber  to  the  Pit  —  Subsidies  and 
Government  Supervision  —  Gardoni's  Experiences  —  A 
Short  Way  with  Nervous  Baritones  —  The  Vagaries  of  the 
Censorship  —  "Libert ii"  and  '•  Lealta  " — Roneoni's  Hu- 
mour—  Description  of  the  Scala  in  1855  —  Recollections  of 
the  Season — Italian  Audiences:  their  decided  way  of 
expressing  an  opinion  —  A  Ludicrous  Performance  of  •  -Ma- 
rino Fallen i"  .  .  .  78-94 


CHAPTER  VII 

A  Cold  Winter  —  Opera  at  the  Carcano  —  The  Caffe  Martini, 
a  Great  Musical  Exchange  —  Struggles  and  Privations  of 
Poor  Singers  —  A  Generous  Landlady  —  The  Cruelty  of 
Italian  Audiences — Pacini's  --Saffo"  —  Two  Stentors  — 
Dramatic  Performances  of  the  Teatro  Re  —  Salvini  —  Gol- 
doni's  Comedies  —  Concerts  at  the  Scala  :  Felicien  David's 
"  Le  Desert  "and  the  ••  Stabat  Mater'' —  Four  Conduc- 
tors —  Mendelssohn's  ••  St.  Paul''  —  A  Masked  Ball  —  My 
Lancashire  Accent  betrays  me  —  A  Dangerous  Costume  — 
English  Friends  — An  Irish  Adventurer — The  Value  of 
Dialect — Change  of  Lodgings  —  My  New  Landlady  —  Noisy 
Quarters  —  A  Visit  to  the  Lakes  :  a  Cheap  Holiday  —  Music 
at  the  Duoino :  an  Aggravating  Conductor  —  A  Great 
Preacher  —  Church  Music  in  Italy:  Strange  Voluntaries,  JI5-111 


xii  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  VIII 

PAGE 

Church  Festivals  and  their  Curious  Customs  —  Plum-pudding 
at  Barcelona  —  The  Feasts  of  San  Giorgio,  Sant'  Angelo, 
and  Corpus  Christi  —  An  Impressive  Spectacle  —  My  De- 
light iu  Open-air  Recreation  —  Milan  :  Palatial  and  Ple- 
beian —  The  Best  View  of  the  Duomo  —  Sad  Accident  to 
my  "  Darlin'  Pair  o'  Bags"  —  Gluttony  and  its  Miseries  — 
Advice  to  Singers  about  Food  and  Drink  —  Trips  to  Monza 

—  Anecdote  of  Some  English  Excursionists  —  Performances 
at  the  Conservatorio  —  Pollini's  Opera  —  My  Friend  Rivetta 

—  Our  Excursion  to  Lecco  —  Comfortable  Quarters  at  the 
Croce  di  Malta  —  Demoralizing  Effect  of  English  and  Amer- 
ican Travellers  on  Foreign  Hotels  —  I  turn  Barber  —  Davide 
Xava  and  the  Mountains  —  Visit  t<>  the  Maranis    .        .  112-128 

CHAPTER  IX 

Efforts  to  obtain  Work  —  Engagement  at  Pavia  —  A  Con- 
ceited Tenor  and  a  Cross-grained  Baritone  —  I  escort  an 
.\_i-d  Sec  it  tula  Donna  —  A  Skittish  Landlady  —  I  appear 
in  the  "Traviata  "  and  '•  Ernani"  — My  Wardrobe  —  Fail- 
ure of  "Lamberto  Malatesta"  —  A  Stormy  First-night  and 
a  Disastrous  Sequel — The  Mayor  proves  a  Friend  in  Need 

—  Christmas  Day  at  Pavia:  a  Hospitable  Landlord  —  The 
Medical  Student  and   the   Raw  Veal  Cutlet  — Hotels,  old 
and  New 129-140 

CHAPTER  X 

Return  to  Milan  —  A  Memorable  Masked  Ball  —  A  Generous 
Agent  —  Offer  of  an  Engagement  at  Padua:  a  Foolish  Refu- 
sal—  Dark  Days  and  Short  Commons  —  Suicidal  Thoughts 

—  A  Welcome  Engagement  —  A  Kind-hearted  Prima  Donna 

—  I  .throw  up  my  Engagement  —  Arrival  of  Supplies  from 
Home  —  Offer  of  a  Five  Years'  Engagement  —  A  Trump  of 
a  Landlady  —  Good-natured  but  Irritating  Friends — Ad- 
verse Criticisms  of  Nava  —  Declamation,  True  and  False  — 
Matters  reach   a  Crisis  —  Xo   Engagements  forthcoming  — 


CONTEXTS  xiii 

PAGE 

Visit  from  Henry  F.  Chorley —  His  Appearance  and  Preju- 
dices—  IK-  urges  ine  to  return  to  England —  His  Kindness 
and  Generosity  —  A  Tedious  Journey  —  Home  again  .  141-155 

CHAPTER   XI 

Visit   to    Ilullah  :  his  Criticism  —  J.  L.   Hatton's   Offer  —  My 
Debut  in  the  "Creation" — Manuel  Garcia's  Assistance —   - 
Appearances  at  the  Crystal  Palace  —  Molique's  Pedantry  — 
Slow   Progress  —  Anecdotes   of   Chorley  —  Introduced   to 
-  •  a  by  Chorley  —  A  Favourable  Verdict  —  Costa's  Char- 
acter—  An  Epoch-making  Party  at  Choi-ley's — Adelaide 
and  Gertrude  Kenible — Appearance  in  the  ••  Messiah" 
"The  Trumpet  shall  sound"  mums  the  Trumpet  —  oper- 
atic Aspirations —  "St.  Paul"  at  Manchester — "Elijah" 
at  Exeter  Hall  —  The  Royal  Society  of  Musicians'  Dinner 

—  Sight-reading,  its  Advantages  and  Drawbacks  —  Festival 
at    Leeds   in   1858  —  Abortive   Negotiations   with   Operatic 
Managers  —  Rejected    by   the    Birmingham    Festival    Com- 
mittee—  I  attend  the  Festival  as  Chorley's  (Juest- — Viar- 
dot.  Garcia,  and  Sims  Reeves  —  Private  Concerts  —  Kindly 
Encouragement    from    Reeves,    Clara    Novello.  Mario,  and 

Grisi ].  <i.  Patey — His  Taste  in  Dress  —  A  Visit  to  the 

Standard  Theatre  —  An  Unexpected  Lobster         .         .  156-175 

CHAPTER   XII 

A  Formidable  Fellow-lodger —  Engaged  to  Miss  Kemble  — 
Henry  Grevillc's  Musical  Parties  —  A  Compliment  from 
.Mario  —  Visit  to  the  Pateys  in  Devonshire  —  Breakfast  at 
a  Private  Lunatic  Asylum — My  Second  Season  —  Married 
to  Miss  Gertrude  Kemble.  April  '.).  IS.".!)  —  Benefit  Concerts 

—  Engaged   at    English   Opera  —  Meyerbeer's    Approval  — 
Bradford  Festival — Preparations  for  "  Dinorah  "  —  Diffi- 
dence and  Despondency  —  Candid  Criticisms —  ••  II  Trova- 
tore,"  ••  The  Rose  of  Castile  "  —  "  Lurline  "  —  Rhubarb  or 
Coral?  —  A    -;  Huguenot    Rush"  — The    Queen    attends 
••  Dinorah  "  —  Concert    at    Windsor    Castle  —  Wallace's 
••  Bellringer "  —Winter   Season  of   English  Opera  at  Her 


CONTENTS 


Majesty's,  1KOO-01,  under  Halle— Stage  Management  Ex- 
traordinary  —  An  Unwelcome  Dog — E.  T.  Smith's  Great 
Combination — '-Elijah"  at  the  Birmingham  Festival  — 
Costa  and  the  Critics  —  English  Opera  at  Covent  Garden, 
1861-02 — Howard  Glover's  "  Kuy  Bias"  — A  Dangerous 
Dagger  —  "  Robin  Hood"  and  "  The  Puritan's  Daughter  " 
—  Tiresome  Repetitions  —  Benedict's  "  Lily  of  Killarney  " 
—  "  Billy  "  West's  Timely  Lesson  ....  176-195 


CHAPTER   XIII 

isii2  :  an  Eventful  Year  —  Costa  suggests  Italian  Opera  —  I 
start  for  Italy —  My  Visit  to  Rossini  in  Paris  —  Recalled  to 
London  by  an  Offer  from  Gye  —  Costa's  Advice  in  regard  to 
Engagements  —  Costa's  Rebuke  to  Tamberlik  —  An  Inau- 
spicious Rehearsal  —  Costa  on  Artistic  Jealousy  —  A  Flat- 
tering Reception  and  an  Unfounded  Charge — -Engaged  by 
Mapleson  —  A  Bad  Start  at  Her  Majesty's  —  A  Difficult 
Part  —  Concurrent  Engagements  at  Her  Majesty's  and  Co- 
vent  Garden  —  Production  of  AVallace's  "  Love's  Triumph  " 

—  Charles   Lucas's  Prophecy  —  My  Last  English  Opera  at 
Covent  Garden  —  Balfe's  "  Armourer  of  Nantes  "  — A  Free 
Performance  and  a  Stupid  Audience  —  A   Curious   Bet  — 
Four  Seasons'  Work  —  English  Opera,  Old  and  New  Styles 

—  George  Honey  —  St.   Albyn  —  Palgrave    Simpson    and 
Harrison ,  190-219 

CHAPTER   XIV 

My  New  Comrades:  Tietjens,  Alboni,  Trebelli,  and  Giuglini 

—  Trebelli's  Father  —  Dressing-rooms  at  the  English  and 
Italian  Opera  —  An  Operatic  Perquisite  —  The  Advantages 
of  Italianization  —  A  Visit   to   Paris  —  Madame   Carvalho 
and  Monjauze  —  I  persuade  Mapleson  to  let  me  play  Valen- 
tine —  Gounod's  Congratulations  —  Divergent  Opinions  as 
to  the   Part  —  Origin  of  "  Dio  Possente" — The  Season  of 
1863  —  Schira's  "  Niccolo  de'  Lapi"  —  A  Trying  out  Part 

—  Mdlle.  Artot  in  "  La  Traviata  "  —  A  Dilatory  "  Faust "  — 
Revival  of  "  Oberon  "  —  Alboni's  Magnificent  Singing  and 


CONTENTS  xv 

PAGE 

Excessive  Nervousness — My  Holiday  and  Escape  on  the 
Lake  of  Lucerne  —  D^ni.t  at  Worcester  Fe.-tival —  Schach- 
ner's  New  Oratorio :  his  Criticism  on  Benedict's  "  Coeur  de 
Lion" — Mapleson's  Operatic  Tour  —  "Lucia"  at  Dublin 

—  My  Div.-s   as    Enrico —  Mistaken   for   Oliver   Cromwell 

—  The  Dublin  Gods  and  "  Faust  "  —  Mephistu's  Misadven- 
tures—  Return  to  London  —  Wanted,  a  Faust       .        .  211-2:T> 

(  I L AFTER  XV 

Season  of  1S(>4 — ••Faust"'  in  English  —  I  play  Mephisto  at 
Short  Notice  and  under  Difficulties  —  My  Daughter's  Terror 
at  the  Duel  Scene  —  -Merry  Wives  of  Windsor"  —  --Mi- 
rella"  —  The  Shakespeare  Centenary  —  Music  hath  Charms 

—  Costa's  •'  Naaman"  — Operatic  Tour — Off  to  Barcelona 

—  We   lose   our   Way — Stage   Properties   in   the   Custom- 
house— -A  Land  of  Garlic  —  Opera  at  Barcelona — "Mac- 
beth"'—  Where's  the  Romance? — Return  Home  —  With 
Mapleson  in  Dublin 226-244 

(HATTER   XVI 

Season  of  1865  —  Loss  of   Giuglini  —  Advent  of  De   Murska 

—  I  play  Papageno.  and  sip  a  Cup  of  Castor-oil  —  A   Panic 
Averted — Gloucester    Fotival —  -'Don  Giovanni"  —  Tel- 
bin's  Skeletons  —  My  Season  at  the  Soala —  "  Trovatore  "  : 
a    Critical  Audience  —  Too'  many  Cooks  —  I  escape   from 
Milan 24">-:.'<>(i 

CHAPTER    XVII 

Season  of  1866  —  Madame  Grisi  at  Her  Majesty's  —  A  Gluck 
Performance  at  Dudley  House — Hoel  leaps  over  Coven- 
tino  :  his  Life  saved  by  a  Goat  —  "  Ernani  "  —  Season  of 
1867  —  Puffs  and  Promises  —  First  Appearance  of  Mdlle. 
Christine  Xilsson  —  ••  La  Forza  del  Destino"  produced 
under  Difficulties  —  Mongini  draws  Blood — I  sing  with 
Jenny  Lind  in  ••  Ruth  "  —  Her  Majesty's  Theatre  destroyed 
by  Fire 261-279 


xvi  CONTEXTS 

CHAPTER   XVIII 

PAGE 

Death  of   J.   C.  Tully,  Composer,    Conductor,    and   Gourmet 

—  A  Bumptious  Yankee  Tenor  —  "La  Gazza  Ladra''  — 
Florid  Singing  —  Decadence  of  the  Florid  Style  —  "  Produc- 
tion " —  •'  Rigoletto"  —Kellogg  and  her  Drum  —  A  Mon- 
strosity at  the  Crystal  Palace  —  Dr.  Wesley  —  Carl  Formes 

—  At  Covent  Garden  —  A  Deluge  and  an  Empty  House,  280-294 


CHAPTER   XIX 

Season  of  1869  —  Gye  and  Mapleson  combine  —  A  Phenom- 
enal Buffo —  Xilsson  as  Ophelia  —  I  play  the  Doge  in  ••  I 
due  Foscari  "  —  A  Spirited  Conductor  —  A  Hard  Day's 
Work  —  Rossini's  "  Messe  Solennelle  "  —  In  a  Railway  Ac- 
cident ;  an  Insinuating  Doctor  —  Concert  touring  in  1870 
—  Brutus  and  the  Goat  .  295-300 


Mr.  George  Wood  undertakes  Italian  Opera  at  Drury  Lane  — 
The  "Flying  Dutchman  "  ;  First  Representation  of  Wagner 
in  England  —  An  Obtrusive  Cat  —  I  desert  Italian  for  Eng- 
lish Opera  —  We  start  with  ' '  Zampa ' '  —  Broken  Promises 
—  Friendly  Critics  —  A  Season  of  Death  —  Friendship  with 
Charles  Dickens  —  Fechter's  Misfortunes  —  Trial  of  the 
Albert  Hall  —  Stage  v.  Platform :)  10-324 


CHAPTER    XXI 

Off  to  America  —  A  Farewell  Concert  —  A  Voracious  Charmer 

—  Cure   for   Sea-sickness  —  New   York    Pavement  —  The 
American  Oyster  —  More  Laurels  than  Pence  —  Lunch  at 
Xine  p.m.  — Where  is  the  Town  ?  —  Oil  preferred  to  Music 

—  "  Hearts   of  Oak"  — Patriotic  Toronto  —  A   Waiting 
Race  for  Supper 32">-341 


CONTENTS  xvii 

CHAPTER    XXII 

PAGE 

Success  with  "Zampa"  —  Italian  Opera  Season  in  New  York 

—  A   Prim  Songstress — Realism  and  the  "high  C"  —  A 
"  Real  Good  Time  "  —  Return  Voyage  —  Music  hath  Charms 

—  My  Peaks  of   the  Mountain   Range  —  Mario  and   John 
Parry \\\->-\\:>\ 

CHAPTER   XXIII 

Retrospect  and  Prospect  —  The  Half-Amateur — Academies 
and  Students  —  A  Musical  Lord  Mayor  —  A  National  School 
and  a  National  Theatre  —  A  Lesson  from  Abroad  .  .';"cj-358 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

SANTI.KV   IN  ••  KHA   PI.WOLO"          .... 

SANTLKV  ix  ••  KH.OLKTTO  "       ....        To  face  pu<j( • '2*  \ 


THE    REMINISCENCES    OF 
CHARLES   SANTLEY 

CHAPTER   I 

The  Sea:  its  Charms  and  Drawbacks  —  An  Old  Salt's  Opinion  — 
Birth  and  Early  Resolve  to  be  a  Sailor  —  Voyage  to  the  Isle  of 
Man  —  Later  Voyages  and  their  Discomforts  —  Early  Surround- 
ings and  Antecedents  —  My  Father's  Contemporaries  —  Hatton 
and  Sivori  —  Hatton  at  the  "Little  Liver  "  —  A  Double  Inheri- 
tance :  Music  and  Nervousness —  My  First  Song  —  The  Tortures 
of  School  Recitation  —  A  Quakeress's  Practical  Joke  and  its 
Results  —  Stage-struck  at  Five  Years  Old —  Dramatic  Aspira- 
tions— Dislike  for  Music  only  Superficial  —  First  Public  Appear- 
ance in  the  Choir  of  the  Baptist  Chapel  —  Profound  Effect  of  an 
Orchestra  in  Church  —  My  Awakening  to  the  Power  of  Music 
—  My  Debts  to  Haydn  —  A  Clumsy  Conductor. 

'-I'M  on  the  sea!  I'm  on  the  sea  !  "  Though  there 
I  would  not  ever  be,  spite  of  its  wonderful  attractions 
so  graphically  depicted  by  Barry  Cornwall.  What  a 
powerful  imagination  he  must  have  possessed,  for  he 
was  one  of  the  sickest  of  sailors,  and  detested  the 
sea !  I  had  it  from  Mrs.  Proctor,  who  told  me  she 
used  to  tease  him,  humming  a  strain  of  his  jovial  sea- 
song  as  he  lay,  a  very  log,  huddled  in  shawls  and  a 
tarpaulin,  crossing  the  Channel,  with  barely  sufficient 
animation  left  to  utter,  '*  For  God's  sake,  my  dear, 
don't !  " 

1 


2  REMINISCENCES    OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

I  am  on  the  sea,  on  the  way  from  Auckland  to 
Wellington,  New  Zealand.  Since  my  arrival  in  the 
colonies  I  have  travelled  a  great  deal  on  the  sea.  I 
always  had  an  affection  for  it,  and  love  it  —  to  be  on 
it  (not  at  a  seaside  resort),  but  with  the  blue  above, 
and  the  blue  below,  and  sunshine  wheresoe'er  I  go ! 
Though  I  am  never  troubled  with  sea-sickness,  I  am 
not  one  of  those  enthusiastic  mariners  who  are  always 
longing  for  a  storm.  I  feel  bored  in  rough  weather ; 
I  cannot  take  any  exercise ;  I  cannot  repose,  even  in 
my  berth,  propped  in  with  pillows  and  other  devices ; 
I  cannot  settle  myself  to  read  much,  and  writing  is 
out  of  the  question  —  consequently  time  hangs  some- 
what heavily.  I  have  many  times  resolved  never  to 
put  my  foot  on  shipboard  again  unless  compelled, 
and  as  often,  after  a  long  spell  of  railway  travelling 
north,  south,  east,  and  west,  I  am  attacked  by  a  long- 
ing to  be  again  on  the  sea,  which  I  am  bound  to 
satisfy. 

During  the  time  I  was  engaged  at  Her  Majesty's 
Theatre,  an  old  salt  named  Thomas  Dowries  used  to 
be  a  frequent  visitor  behind  the  scenes.  He  had 
been  a  boatswain  in  the  navy,  and  afterwards  became 
a  petty  officer  in  one  of  the  Irish  mail-boats,  where 
I  first  made  his  acquaintance,  and  where  he  was  very 
attentive  to  Mapleson  and  our  company  when  we 
happened  to  cross  to  or  from  Dublin  in  his  packet, 
and  so  he  obtained  the  run  of  the  house  in  the  Hay- 
market.  He  was  one  of  my  ardent  admirers,  always 
loud  in  my  praises  whenever  we  met,  but  he  invaria- 


REMINISCENCES    OF  CHARLES   S  A  XT  LEY  3 

bly  ended  his  eulogy  with,  "But,  Charlie,  you're  a 
good  sailor  spoiled !  You  ought  to  be  ordering  your 
men  on  board  ship,  instead  of  bawling  and  squalling 
your  voice  away  in  that  stuffy  theatre  !  " 

I  was  born  in  Liverpool  on  February  28,  1834.  At 
an  early  age  my  greatest  pleasure  consisted  in  read- 
ing the  adventures  of  great  travellers  (I  do  not  sup- 
pose I  \vas  at  all  singular,  for  most  boys  delight  in 
adventures),  such  as  Bruce's  "  Travels  in  Abyssinia," 
Captain  Cook's  "Voyages,"  Franklin's  "  Expedition 
to  the  Xorth  Pole,"  and  Ross's  in  search  of  him.  At 
school  —  the  Mechanic's  Institution,  Mount  Street  — 
there  was  a  large  sprinkling  of  sons  of  seafaring  men 
and  of  men  whose  business  was  connected  with  ship- 
ping; ship-store  dealers,  ship  chandlers,  ropers,  ship- 
carpenters,  ship-bread  bakers,  etc.,  who  could  all 
relate  "  tales  of  the  sea."  For  some  time  I  was 
determined  to  be  a  sailor,  but  I  never  divulged  my 
determination.  Strolling  about  amongst  the  ship- 
ping, I  discovered  many  unpleasant  vicissitudes  at- 
tendant on  a  seaman's  life,  which  entirely  obliterated 
the  poetical  conception  I  had  formed  of  it.  Yet, 
although  my  illusion  with  regard  to  the  life  of  a 
sailor  vanished,  I  still  preserve  a  great  attachment 
to  the  sailor.  I  like  those  loose,  baggy  trousers,  the 
wide  open  collar  and  loose  neckerchief ;  besides,  I 
think  sea  life  (on  a  sailing-ship,  not  on  a  steamer) 
has  a  tendency  to  make  men  more  open-hearted.  As 
a  rule,  sailors  are  frank  and  good-natured,  and  in  my 
experience  I  have  seldom  found  one  sullen  or  un- 


4  REMINISCENCES    OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

willing  to  do  a  good  turn.  Even  the  passengers  on 
board  ship  become  imbued  with  the  spirit  of  freedom, 
and  many  who  on  land  would  scarcely  deign  to  notice 
a  stranger,  on  the  sea  dispense  with  ceremony,  and 
make  themselves  most  agreeable  and  attentive  com- 
panions. 

I  made  my  first  voyage  when  I  was  seven  years  of 
age.  I  had  gained  a  prize  at  school,  and  as  a  reward 
I  was  allowed  to  accompany  my  grandmother  to  the 
Isle  of  Man.  The  steamer  was  an  old  tub  called  the 
Mona/s  Isle.  We  must  have  had  a  rough  time  of  it, 
as,  to  the  best  of  my  recollection,  we  were  nine  or 
ten  hours  crossing  from  Liverpool.  We  were  steer- 
age passengers,  and  I  was  very  sick;  and  as  I  lay 
half-dazed  in  a  bunk  below,  a  sailor  came  down  and 
brought  out  a  cold  sole  and  some  potatoes,  which  he 
devoured.  I  thought  he  must  be  a  hard-hearted 
wretch  to  commit  such  a  barbarous  action  with  a  lot 
of  sick  people  lying  about;  but  I  changed  my  opin- 
ion when,  at  my  grandmother's  request,  he  carried 
me  in  his  arms  on  deck  to  pay  a  necessary  visit,  and 
behaved  as  tenderly  to  me  as  though  he  had  been  my 
nurse.  We  had  to  land  in  a  small  boat.  No  sooner 
was  I  seated  therein  than  the  sickness  left  me,  and 
I  was  seized  with  such  an  appetite  that  I  could  have 
demolished  the  sailor,  with  the  sole  and  potatoes  for 
seasoning. 

I  do  not  profess  to  be  a  great  traveller.  In  these 
days.  when  you  may  meet  shopkeepers  from  provin- 
cial towns  "doing"  the  Pyramids  of  Egypt,  tho 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY  5 

mosques  and  bazaars  of  Cairo,  the  catacombs  of 
Rome,  the  wonders  of  Jerusalem,  and  the  ruins  of 
Baalbec,  I  can  scarcely  lay  claim  to  be  more  than  a 
Margate  excursionist.  I  may  say  that  all  my  travel- 
ling by  sea  has  been  for  pleasure  ;  the  voyage  was  my 
chief  inducement  to  accept  engagements  in  America 
and  the  colonies.  As  I  have  before  said,  I  have  at 
times  a  longing  to  be  on  the  sea;  but  I  should  like, 
if  time  permitted,  to  try  the  real  thing  in  a  sailing- 
ship;  for  on  board  a  steamer  I  do  not  find  the  perfect 
repose  I  expected.  True,  there  is  no  post,  no  tele- 
graph, but  there  is  hurry,  scurry,  and  bustle  of  one 
sort  or  another  night  and  day;  the  least  annoying  of 
the  noises  which  disturb  the  rest  being  that  of  the 
machinery,  which,  after  a  da}'  or  two,  is  only  notice- 
able when  it  stops.  In  the  night  belated  roisterers 
bawl  to  each  other  along  the  corridors,  throw  their 
boots  out,  slam  the  doors,  or  leave  them  unfastened, 
so  that  every  roll  of  the  ship  causes  them  to  clatter. 
In  the  early  morning  stewards  indulge^  in  untimely 
hilarity  over  boot-cleaning,  or  rush  about  in  answer 
to  emphatic  appeals  for  tea  and  coffee.  During  the 
day  meals  are  rushed  through  as  though  everybody 
had  to  catch  an  express  train!  Importunate  agi- 
tators, who  have  no  taste  for  quiet  themselves,  insist 
upon  everybody  joining  in  ridiculous  uninteresting 
games.  It  is  difficult  to  take  exercise,  for  no  sooner 
do  one  or  two  persons  start  for  a  walk  than  everyone 
else  seems  to  be  seized  with  the  same  impulse,  so 
that  between  the  crowd  of  people,  the  crowd  of  chairs 


6  REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

—  which  take  up  half  the  deck — -and  children  push- 
ing about  go-carts,  there  is  nothing  for  it  but  to 
submit  to  be  hustled  and  jostled  about,  or  relinquish 
all  idea  of  exercise.  There  is  an  attempt  at  a  band, 
which  I,  for  one,  would  willingly  pay  extra  fare  to 
be  rid  of.  To  pass  the  evenings,  dramatic  enter- 
tainments, recitals,  and  concerts  are  instituted,  and, 
of  course,  I  was  pestered  to  take  part  in  them.  I 
excused  myself  on  the  ground  that  I  required  rest 
after  a  very  fatiguing  season ;  however,  I  sang  twice 
during  my  voyage  to  Australia,  as  a  small  return  for 
the  kindness  and  attention  I  received  from  our  cap- 
tain, a  perfect  gentleman,  professionally  and  pri- 
vately. On  my  passage  returning  from  Townsville 
to  Rockhampton,  Queensland,  I  was  pressed  to  sing, 
and  declined.  I  had  then  the  satisfaction  of  hearing 
several  of  the  songs  I  had  been  singing  during  my 
tour  murdered  by  audacious  amateurs. 

At  the  time  I  was  born  my  father  was  a  journey- 
man bookbinder  employed  in  his  father's  workshop ; 
shortly  after  he  obtained  a  clerkship  in  the  municipal 
offices,  and  subsequently  became  a  collector  of  rates. 
He  was  always  a  very  persevering  man ;  lie  had  a 
great  love  for  music,  and  any  spare  time  he  could 
command  he  devoted  to  studying  the  piano,  without 
the  aid  of  a  master,  until  by  exercising  strict  econ- 
omy, he  saved  enough  to  enable  him  to  pay  for  les- 
sons. He  then  became  a  pupil  of  Michael  Maybrick, 
an  uncle  of  the  singer  and  composer  of  that  name, 
known  in  the  latter  capacity  as  Stephen  Adams. 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY  1 

One  of  his  fellow-pupils  was  John  Liptrot  Hatton, 
the  composer  of  "To  Anthea."  Hatton  was  a  merry 
wag;  he  and  Sivori,  the  violinist,  were  one  Sunday 
at  St.  Peter's  Catholic  Church,  Seal  Street;  Sivori, 
who  was  one  of  the  shortest  of  men,  was  standing 
on  tip-toe  looking  through  the  curtain  which  hid  the 
singers  from  view  in  the  organ-gallery,  when  Hatton, 
spying  a  good  opportunity  for  a  practical  joke,  seized 
him  by  the  heels  and  jerked  him  three  parts  over  the 
reading-desk  and  back  again  breathless,  before  he 
knew  where  he  was.  When  "Jack  Sheppard  "  was 
first  produced  in  London  with  the  inimitable  Mrs. 
Keeley,  Paul  Bedford,  etc.,  it  made  such  a  sensation 
that  the  manager  of  the  "  Little  Liver ''  in  Church 
Street1  determined  upon  producing  it  with  his  own 
company  rather  than  wait  until  the  London  company 
visited  the  provinces.  There  was  only  one  difficulty 
about  casting  the  parts.  The  company  included 
some  very  good  actors;  but  they  had  nobody  who 
could  play  Blueskin  and  sing  the  song,  and  Blue- 
skin  without  "Jolly  Nose  "  would  never  do.  Hatton 
was  always  about  the  theatre.  I  think  he  played 
in  the  orchestra,  and  went  on  the  stage  occasionally 
among  the  crowd.  He  had  a  fairly  sonorous  voice, 
plenty  of  humour,  and  his  capabilities  were  well- 
known  to  all  connected  with  the  theatres,  so  in  their 
dilemma  he  was  applied  to  to  play  Joe  Blueskin; 
his  diffidence,  which  was  not  armour-plated,  was 

1  A  pet  name  for  the  Liver  Theatre  ;  it  was  very  small,  and  a 
great  favourite  with  the  Liverpudlians. 


8  REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

soon  disposed  of,  and  he  consented.  The  drama 
had  a  run  of  several  weeks,  and  was  received  with 
uproarious  applause,  Hatton  having  to  sing  the  song 
three  times  every  night.  When  the  London  com- 
pany came  down  to  Liverpool  and  played  it  at  the 
Theatre  Royal  it  fell  flat  spite  of  the  "only  Jack." 
It  had  been  performed  ever  so  many  times  better  at 
the  "Liver."  As  to  Paul  Bedford,  he  was  a  fraud 
after  Jack  Hatton ! 

My  mother  possessed,  as  did  several  members  of 
her  family,  a  peculiarly  sympathetic  voice,  so  I 
presume  I  inherited  from  my  parents  a  musical 
nature.  Both  were  of  very  nervous  temperament, 
which  I  inherited  also.  The  first  song  I  ever 
learned  was  "  When  I  was  a  little  boy  scarce  thirty 
years  ago,"  which  I  was  often  called  on  to  sing  for 
the  amusement  of  visitors.  I  was  so  nervous  that 
I  would  have  run  miles  away  to  escape  the  dreadful 
ordeal;  but  my  nervousness  was  set  down  to  obsti- 
nacy and  ill-will,  and  many  a  bitter  moment  I 
endured  in  consequence. 

I  could  not  have  been  more  than  eight  when  my 
father  commenced  teaching  my  elder  sister  and  me 
our  notes.  I  loved  music,  but  my  dread  of  singing 
before  anyone  held  me  back,  and  I  was  constantly 
reprimanded  for  obstinacy  and  indifference  when  no 
such  feelings  influenced  me ;  so  that  what  otherwise 
might  have  been  a  source  of  amusement  and  delight 
became  an  intolerably  irksome  task.  I  began  to 
loathe  the  sound  of  the  piano,  and  tried  by  every 
means  in  my  power  to  escape  music  in  any  form. 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY  9 

At  school,  at  times,  I  was  accused  of  idleness  and 
lack  of  zeal,  when  in  reality  nervousness  prevented 
me  from  putting  myself  forward.  At  examinations 
I  never  could  do  myself  justice.  An  hour  each 
week  was  devoted  to  recitations ;  my  first  was  Bishop 
Heber's  lines  "From  Greenland's  icy  mountains." 
Each  week,  after  it  had  been  given  me  to  learn,  I 
sat  shuddering,  cold  as  the  "icy  mountains,"  my 
heart  beating  so  loudly  that  I  fancied  my  neighbour 
could  hear  it,  such  was  my  dread  of  being  called  on 
to  recite  before  the  boys.  I  avoided  the  master's 
eye  in  the  hope  of  escaping  his  notice,  but  at  length 
the  fatal  moment  arrived,  and  I  had  to  go  to  execu- 
tion. I  tottered  on  to  the  platform,  my  teeth  chat- 
tering and  the  nerves  of  my  mouth  twitching  as 
though  I  had  been  seized  with  St.  Vitus's  dance.  I 
knew  the  piece  perfectly,  but  I  had  barely  uttered 
the  first  line  when  I  broke  out  into  a  violent  fit  of 
sobbing.  The  professor,  though  a  strict  discipli- 
narian, was  very  kind-hearted,  and  evidently  com- 
prehending the  cause  of  my  distress,  allowed  me  to 
return  to  my  place.  When  the  class  was  dismissed 
he  called  me  to  him  and  spoke  so  kindly  and 
encouragingly  that  I  determined  to  do  my  best  to 
overcome  my  weakness.  To  a  great  extent  I  suc- 
ceeded. I  gained  sufficient  command  over  myself  to 
be  able  to  repeat  the  words,  but  rarely  with  the  force 
and  expression  I  felt. 

At  the  breaking-up  for  the  Midsummer  vacation 
the  recitations  were  given  in  the  lecture  hall  of  the 


10  REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

institution,  in  the  presence  of  the  pupils  and  their 
parents  and  friends.  On  one  occasion  I  had  to  take 
the  part  of  Miss  Lucretia  Mae  Tabb  in  a  scene  from 
"The  Poor  Gentleman.''  I  performed  it  very  badly, 
for  besides  my  nervousness  I  felt  I  was  an  object  of 
ridicule  to  my  schoolfellows  in  my  attempt  to  por- 
tray the  vagaries  of  an  ancient  coquette.  The  sum- 
mer I  left  school  I  took  the  part  of  Hamlet  in  the 
scene  with  the  Gravedigger.  I  believe  I  did  that 
fairly  well,  but  I  was  in  great  trepidation  lest  the 
skull  should  roll  out  of  my  hand  whilst  I  was  deliv- 
ering the  lines,  "Alas!  poor  Yorick,"  so  violently 
did  I  tremble. 

My  natural  nervousness  was  increased  by  a  fright 
I  had  when  about  ten  years  of  age.  I  was  out  one 
evening  playing  with  my  companions  on  some  waste 
ground  near  our  house,  when  the  maid  came  out  and 
informed  me  that  my  father  wished  to  see  me  imme- 
diately. I  was  loath  to  leave  my  play,  but  I  knew 
I  must  obey,  so  ran  off  in  great  haste,  and  knocked 
at  the  door,  which  was  opened  by  an  awful-looking 
figure.  I  uttered  a  fearful  shriek  and  dropped  almost 
insensible  on  the  steps.  When  I  recovered  I  crawled 
back  to  join  my  playfellows,  but  all  my  spirit  was 
gone.  I  remained  out  of  doors  until  very  late,  and 
not  until  I  had  been  positively  assured  there  was 
nothing  to  fear  would  I  venture  home.  A  young 
quakeress,  a  friend  of  my  sister's,  had  coloured  her 
face  with  Spanish  juice  and  clothed  herself  in  some 
outlandish  garments  intending  to  create  a  bit  of 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY          11 

fun  at  my  expense.  For  some  time  I  never  entered 
the  house  without  a  shudder.  A  year  after,  when 
the  effect  of  the  shock  had  nearly  worn  off,  the 
joke  was  repeated,  with  a  similar  result,  a  hideous 
mask  being  substituted  for  the  paint. 

Although  nervousness  at  times  has  prevented  my 
doing  all  I  wished  and  felt  I  was  capable  of  doing,  I 
could  always  command  myself  to  such  an  extent  that 
it  Avas  only  apparent  to  those  intimately  acquainted 
with  me.  I  suffered  from  it  when  I  took  part  with 
others.  The  first  few  times  I  played  in  an  orchestra 
I  could  scarcely  keep  the  bow  steady  on  the  strings 
of  my  fiddle,  and  when  I  began  to  sing  in  the  chorus 
I  had  difficulty  in  keeping  my  breath  and  my  voice 
under  control. 

The  intimate  desire  of  my  heart  was  to  be  an 
m: tor,  but  of  this  I  never  breathed  a  word  to  anyone. 
My  family  had  been  brought  up  with  the  Puritanical 
notion  that  all  stage-players,  singers,  and  such-like 
were  no  better  than  they  ought  to  be,  and  in  general 
much  worse.  I  seldom  saw  the  inside  of  a  theatre 
before  I  was  seventeen  or  eighteen ;  on  rare  occa- 
sions I  was  taken,  and  more  rarely  still  allowed  to 
accompany  a  friend  to  see  a  play.  When  I  was 
about  four  or  five  my  aunt  took  my  sister  and  me  to 
see  Ducrow's  circus.  The  first  part  of  the  perform- 
ance was  the  drama  of  "St.  George  and  the  Dragon," 
and  I  suppose  I  was  stage-struck.  In  spite  of  the 
nervousness  I  suffered  from  when  called  upon  to 
recite  at  school,  I  tried  all  in  my  power  to  obtain 


12  KEML\'ISCEXCES    OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

permission  to  have  a  whole  play  acted  by  the  boys  as 
part  of  the  entertainment  at  the  breaking-up,  but 
without  success.  I  read  Shakespeare's  plays,  of 
which  "  Macbeth  "  was  my  favourite,  constantly;  two 
or  three  of  them  I  knew  by  heart.  My  father  had 
some  volumes  of  miscellaneous  plays,  among  them 
"Cato,"  "Venice  Preserved,"  "Tamerlane,"  "The 
Hypocrite,"  "The  Jew,"  with  the  original  casts  and 
descriptions  of  costumes,  which  I  read  and  re-read. 
I  used  to  study  all  the  playbills,  and  picture  to  my- 
self, when  quiet  at  home  in  the  evening,  the  scenes 
which  I  longed  to  see  represented. 

I  have  said  before  that  music  became  irksome  to 
me,  and  that  I  tried  to  escape  from  it  in  any  form. 
This  was  the  result  of  making  it  a  task  instead  of  a 
pleasure,  an  error  which  I  imagine  many  parents  fall 
into  through  misunderstanding  the  child's  nature. 
I  was  called  stubborn,  whereas  I  was  nervous  and 
diffident,  and  very  much  averse  to  being  shown  off. 
I  had  plenty  of  work  to  do  at  school,  and  tasks  to 
prepare  at  home,  and  I  deemed  it  unjust  that  the 
little  time  I  had  for  recreation  should  be  employed 
in  a  study  which,  with  my  parents'  ideas  of  profes- 
sional life,  could  lead  to  nothing. 

My  dislike,  however,  must  have  been  superficial ; 
the  spirit  of  music  lay  dormant  in  my  heart,  only 
awaiting  the  proper  touch  to  waken  it  into  a  passion 
—  and  thus  it  happened.  My  father  was  organist  at 
the  old  Catholic  church  of  St.  Mary,  Edmund  Street, 
for  some  years  before  it  was  demolished  to  make 


REMINISCENCES    OF   CHARLES   SAXTl E Y          13 

room  for  a  more  convenient  structure;  he  then 
removed  to  the  Baptist  Chapel,  Myrtle  Street,  which 
had  just  been  opened.  When  the  new  St.  Mary's 
was  completed,  he  was  invited  to  return  to  his  old 
post;  but  having  a  good  organ  at  his  disposal,  and 
finding  himself  in  all  other  respects  at  his  ease,  he 
preferred  remaining  at  the  new  one.  It  was  here  I 
first  joined  in  public  musical  performance.  I  sang 
alto,  and  I  was  so  small  that  a  platform  was  made 
for  me  to  stand  on,  in  order  that  I  might  be  on  a 
level  witli  the  other  members  of  the  choir.  On 
the  occasion  of  an  important  Catholic  festival  they 
arranged  to  perform  Haydn's  First  Mass,  with  full 
orchestral  accompaniment,  at  St.  Mary's.  The 
organist,  having  to  conduct,  invited  my  father  to 
j  (reside  at  the  organ ;  he  found  a  substitute  to  take 
his  own  place,  and  accepted  the  invitation.  I 
accompanied  him,  curious  to  hear  an  orchestra  in 
church.  The  effect  on  me  was  profound;  the  chord 
was  struck,  and  from  that  time  I  lived  on  and  for 
music. 

It  may  be  interesting  to  note  how  many  of  my  first 
experiences  at  the  commencement  of  my  career  were 
furnished  by  Haydn's  works.  My  first  awakening 
to  the  charm  and  power  of  music  was  in  ihe  per- 
formance of  Haydn's  First  Mass,  as  I  have  related 
above.  My  first  attempt  as  a  bass  soloist  was  in 
Haydn's  Second  Mass,  and  my  first  paid  engagement 
was  to  sing  in  Haydn's  Third  Mass  at  St.  John's 
Cathedral.  Sal  ford.  The  first  time  I  assisted  in  the 


14  REMINISCENCES    OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

chorus  at  a  public  performance  was  in  the  "Crea- 
tion," when  Jenny  Lind  sang  at  the  Collegiate 
Institution,  Liverpool,  in  1849.  The  first  oratorio 
I  heard  in  London  was  the  "Creation,"  at  Exeter 
Hall,  in  1851.  I  made  my  first  appearance  in  Lon- 
don at  St.  Martin's  Hall,  November  16,  1857,  and 
my  first  appearance  at  Exeter  Hall  in  1858,  in  the 
same  oratorio.  I  had  an  experience  of  another  kind 
in  the  same  work  at  Southampton  in  1869.  Twice 
I  received  a  blow  on  my  crown  enough  to  stun  me 
from  the  baton  of  a  clumsy  individual  who  was  try- 
ing to  conduct  for  the  first  time. 


CHAPTER   II 

Youthful  Aspirations  and  Subsequent  Disillusionment  —  Artistic 
Cant  —  The  Need  of  Earnestness  —  The  Singer's  Difficulty  — 
First  Public  Solo,  Christmas  Day,  1848 — Bass  or  Tenor?  — 
Desire  to  play  the  Violin  —  I  join  an  Amateur  Orchestra —  "An 
Accomplished  Violinist!"  —  Elected  a  Performing  Member  of 
the  Liverpool  Philharmonic  Society  —  Performance  at  an  Eist- 
eddfod—  The  Dangers  of  the  Stick  —  Performance  of  the  "Eli- 
jah"—  Overwhelming  Impressions  —  My  First  "Domino"  — 
Difficulties  of  the  Dress  Question  —  Viardot  Garcia  and  Ronconi 
—  Ronconi's  Dramatic  Genius  —  Lablache  and  Mario  —  Journey 
to  London  in  1851  —  Still  singing  Tenor  —  Joseph  Lidel's  Friendly 
Encouragement —  Elected  Principal  Second  Violin  in  the  "Soci- 
rta.  Armonica"  — My  Excess  of  Zeal  :  a  Second  "Domino"  — 
Unsuccessful  Attempt  to  join  the  Philharmonic  Orchestra  — 
I  join  the  Basses  —  Public  Appearances  —  Stockhausen  and 
Standigl. 

THE  chord  was  struck! — how,  I  know  not. 
Though  I  remember  every  sensation  the  music 
roused  in  me,  I  cannot  describe  one.  Disillusion 
and  disappointment  have  long  since  warped  the 
pure,  innocent  feeling  of  delight,  and  the  aspira- 
tions it  gave  rise  to,  which  filled  my  boy's  heart. 
Indeed,  it  would  not  be  difficult  to  indulge  in  sar- 
castic comments  on  the  innocent  belief  which  I  then 
cherished  in  the  omnipotence  of  artistic  merit.  I 
had  not  then  learned  that  talent,  unaccompanied  by 
the  blast  of  trumpets,  has  a  weary,  toilsome  road  to 
trace  in  order  to  obtain,  if  ever  it  does  obtain,  due 

15 


16  REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

recognition.  I  did  not  then  kno\v  (us  now  I  do 
know)  that  it  was  necessary  for  an  artist  himself  to 
tell  the  world  he  was  great,  and  wherein  his  great- 
ness lay,  in  order  that  the  world  might  recognize  his 
great  qualities.  I  did  not  know  that  pinchbeck  was 
frequently  preferred  to  gold,  impudent  sham  to 
modest  reality;  and  I  had  not  read  "  Sartor  Resartus," 
nor  meditated  on  the  fact  that  "  man  is  not  only  a 
gullible  animal,  but  that  he  prefers  to  be  gulled." 
I  have  learned  all  this  in  the  course  of  my  career,  as 
much  greater  men  than  I  have  done.  I  have  seen 
that  monstrous  incompetency,  aided  by  "backsheesh  " 
of  one  kind  or  another,  is  more  than  a  match  for 
titanic  genius,  and  that  a  pat  on  the  back  from  a 
royal  hand  is  of  more  avail  than  consummate  talent. 
And  I  have  learned  that  fuss  and  talk  about  Art, 
Poetry,  —  Painting,  Architecture,  Music, — is  mostly 
cant  and  hypocrisy. 

I  never  read  one  of  Hazlitt's  essays,  but  I  came 
across  this  quotation  in  a  little  book  called  "Noon," 
by  Sidney  Lear: 

"  I  think  that,  though  there  is  very  little  down- 
right hypocrisy  in  the  world,  there  is  a  great  deal  of 
cant.  Cant  is  the  voluntary  overcharging  or  pro- 
longation of  a  real  sentiment ;  hypocrisy  is  the  set- 
ting up  of  a  pretension  to  a  feeling  you  never  had 
and  have  no  wish  for. 

"  Though  very  few  people  have  the  face  to  set  up 
for  the  very  thing  they  in  their  hearts  despise,  we 
almost  all  want  to  be  thought  better  than  we  arc. 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  S A  NT  LEY          17 

and  affect  a  greater  admiration  or  abhorrence  of  cer- 
tain things  than  we  really  feel.  There  are  people 
who  are  made  up  of  cant  —  that  is,  of  mawkish  affec- 
tation — but  who  have  not  sincerity  enough  to  be 
hypocrites — that  is,  have  not  hearty  dislike  or  con- 
tempt enough  for  anything  to  give  the  lie  to  their 
puling  professions  of  admiration  and  esteem  for  it.'' 

Of  all  cants  I  believe  that  most  in  vogue  is  the 
cant  about  Art.  It  displays  itself  in  various  ways : 
very  commonly  in  the  way  of  patronage  —  patronage 
bestowed  on  the  deference  paid  to  the  patron,  rather 
than  on  the  merits  of  the  patronized;  patronage,  the 
destruction  of  many  young  people  who  might  have 
been  usefully  and  profitably  employed  in  trade  and 
commerce,  but  who,  carried  away  by  the  flattery  of 
ignorant  would-be  patrons  of  Art,  have  dared  to  pass 
in  at  the  door  of  her  temple,  only  to  be  shouldered 
out  and  left  to  starve  by  the  roadside. 

There  is  the  cant  about  educating  the  masses  from 
their  childhood,  and  teaching  them  to  appreciate 
Art.  which,  as  far  as  music  is  concerned,  costs  the 
British  nation  a  large  sum  of  money  —  money  which, 
instead  of  being  thrown  in  the  gutter,  as  it  is,  might 
be  employed  in  the  endowment  of  establishments, 
where  those,  who  by  hard  work  have  made  them- 
selves worthy  to  be  called  artists,  could  find  sure 
employment  for  their  talents. 

And  there  is  the  worst  cant  of  all,  about  a  Na- 
tional Opera,  which,  as  every  schoolboy  knows  (to 
use  a  well-known  and  favourite  cunt  phrase),  will 


IS  REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  S ANT  LEY 

never  exist  unless  the  British  nation  agrees  to  sub- 
sidize theatres  and  pension  singers  as  in  Germany 
and  France.  But  even  then  the  patrons  of  Art 
must  be  prepared  to  support  the  undertaking  In- 
constant attendance,  not  merely  by  putting  in  an 
appearance  to  hear  a  favourite  singer. 

The  greatest  disappointment  I  have  met  with 
through  life  has  been  the  lack  of  earnestness  I  have 
experienced  in  the  major  part  of  my  fellow-workers, 
whether  in  my  commercial  or  professional  career.  I 
can  understand  men  who,  having  no  particular  bent, 
are  doomed  to  pass  their  lives  as  clerks,  with  nothing 
to  look  forward  to  but  uninteresting  work  poorly 
paid,  finding  the  monotonous  drudgery  of  an  office 
not  by  any  means  conducive  to  exertion  beyond  that 
which  is  necessary  to  earn  their  pay;  but  I  cannot 
understand  a  man  professing  to  be  an  artist  being- 
contented  to  remain  at  the  bottom  of  the  ladder, 
when  he  knows  that,  in  defiance  of  all  obstacles,  he 
must  rise  if  he  wishes  so  to  do.  He  may  not  rise  to 
the  top,  for  all  men  are  not  endowed  with  the  neces- 
sary means ;  to  some  are  given  five  talents,  to  some 
three,  and  to  some  only  one,  and  from  each  of  them 
only  a  proportionate  result  is  expected.  But  what 
a  number  of  instances  I  could  cite  where  that  expec- 
tation, far  from  being  fulfilled,  has  not  even  been 
approached.  At  the  same  time,  I  must  say  1  have 
known  instances  where  limited  natural  resources 
have  been  turned  to  so  good  an  account  by  hard 
work  and  perseverance,  that  they  have  outstripped 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY         19 

and  eclipsed  gifts  which  ought  to  have  carried  their 
possessors  to  the  top  of  the  ladder.  Discontent  with 
their  humble  means  prevents  some  from  striving; 
vanity  and  laziness  many  whose  brilliant  natural 
endowments  ought,  with  conscientious  work,  to 
place  them  in  the  front  rank.  Man  is  naturally 
vain  and  lazy,  and  I  think  a  singer,  to  become  a  real 
artist,  has  to  make  a  harder  struggle  against  these 
natural  defects  than  the  followers  of  any  other  art, 
and  for  this  reason.  The  essential  natural  qualifi- 
cation for  a  singer  is  a  sonorous  voice  of  sympathetic 
quality ;  the  unintellectual  public  is  satisfied  with 
the  sound  which  pleases  its  ear,  and  bestows  its 
applause  irrespective  of  artistic  merit.  Vanity  and 
laziness  step  in  and  sajr,  "The  public  is  content,  the 
money  rolls  in;  why  study  more?"  Conscience  is 
thrust  aside.  How  many  promising  young  artists 
have  come  to  an  untimely  end  in  consequence !  Yet 
I  have  known  some  who,  when  the  voice  has  begun 
to  lose  its  charm,  roused  by  the  voice  of  conscience, 
with  determined  efforts  have  succeeded  in  making 
Art  a  more  than  efficient  substitute  for  the  magic  of 
a  fresh  voice. 

The  singer  has  a  difficulty  to  contend  with  which 
does  not  affect  any  other  artist,  except,  in  a  less 
degree,  the  actor.  The  singer's  work  is  a  picture 
painted  on  air.  No  sooner  is  it  depicted  than  it  is 
gone;  while  the  poet's,  painter's,  sculptor's  and 
architect's  works  remain,  and  can  be  examined  and 
analyzed  at  leisure.  Delicacy  of  treatment  is  the 


20  REMINISCENCES    OF  CHARLES  SANTLEV 

quality  which  is  slowest  to  make  an  impression  on 
the  public  eye  or  ear.  The  delicacy  of  a  poem,  a 
picture,  a  statue,  or  an  edifice,  though  it  may  not 
strike  at  a  first  reading  or  view,  will  gradually 
impress  itself  on  further  acquaintance.  The  aerial 
picture  of  the  singer,  on  the  other  hand,  vanishes, 
and  there  remains  nothing  more  than  a  dim  shadow, 
insufficient  to  recall  any  real  impression  of  its  merit. 
Hence,  almost  unconsciously,  in  order  to  produce  an 
immediate  impression,  the  singer  lays  on  strong, 
glaring  colour  and  deep  shadows  where  his  artistic 
sense  would  suggest  more  delicate  treatment. 

On  Christmas  Da}r,  1848,  I  sang  my  first  solo  in 
public  at  the  Unitarian  Chapel,  Toxteth  Park,  where 
my  sister  and  I  had  been  engaged  some  months.  My 
voice  was  steadily  growing  uncertain,  which  in- 
creased my  trepidation,  but  I  got  through  it  without 
breaking  down,  and  felt  very  thankful.  In  a  few 
months  my  alto  Aroice  had  gone  completely,  and  was 
succeeded  by  what  one  of  my  relations  described  as 
an  "ugly  noise."  Except  in  the  solitude  of  my 
own  chamber,  I  did  not  exercise  the  noise  for  some 
time.  I  thought  (perhaps  the  wish  was  father  to 
the  thought)  my  register  lay  in  the  baritone  or  bass 
clef;  my  father  thought  otherwise,  and  as  soon  as 
my  voice  became  somewhat  settled,  I  adopted  the 
tenor  clef.  I  do  not  think  I  troubled  myself  much 
about  the  matter  at  that  time,  so  anxious  was  I  to 
take  part  in  the  chorus  in  a  performance  of  "Elijah." 
in  which  Jenny  Lind  was  to  sing,  and  to  gain  my 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY         21 

object  I  would  have  tried  to  sing  any  part.  I  was 
disappointed,  however;  I  was  shelved  on  account  of 
my  youth,  and  so  missed  a  rare  treat  and  a  fine 
lesson. 

The  first  result  of  my  wakening  up  to  the  charms 
of  music  was  the  development  of  an  ardent  desire  to 
learn  the  violin,  not  with  any  idea  of  becoming  a 
soloist,  but  simply  to  enable  me  to  play  in  an 
orchestra.  As  a  child  my  sympathy  was  with  the 
brass  instruments,  especially  the  trumpet;  to  the 
wood  instruments  in  general  I  had  a  decided  antip- 
athy. I  remember  Charles  Horn  giving  a  series  of 
entertainments  —  they  may  have  been  lectures  —  in 
the  Lecture  Hall  of  the  Mechanics'  Institution;  the 
illustrations  were  performed  by  a  small  band  of  ten 
or  twelve  instruments,  assisted  by  the  piano.  Among 
them  there  was  a  piccolo,  who,  to  judge  by  the  vigour 
he  displayed,  earned  his  money  "'by  the  sweat  of  his 
brow  ":  the  shrill  noise  he  produced  acted  so  acutely 
on  my  nerves,  I  felt  perfectly  terrified,  and  entreated 
to  be  taken  home. 

I  begged  to  be  allowed  to  learn  the  violin,  but  my 
father,  thinking  it  was  only  a  whim,  insisted  on  my 
turning  my  attention  to  the  piano  or  organ,  the 
instruments  to  which  he  himself  was  attached, 
though  I  had  no  love  for  either.  The  organ  I  dis- 
liked, probably  on  account  of  the  many  weary  hours 
I  had  passed  blowing  the  bellows  whilst  my  father 
practised.  I  tried  to  learn  the  piano,  but  failed  to 
make  anything  of  it.  A  friend  of  ours,  an  amateur 


22  REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

of  music,  and  also  of  cabinet-making,  had  con- 
structed a  violin  of  a  novel  shape;  he  induced  my 
father  to  allow  him  to  lend  it  to  me,  and  gave  me 
some  preparatory  lessons  in  order  to  test  whether  I 
was  in  earnest.  My  progress  was  sufficiently  satis- 
factory, and  in  a  short  time  I  possessed  a  violin  of 
my  own,  and  had  some  lessons  from  a  professor.  I 
never  was  a  violinist,  but  in  about  eighteen  months 
I  was  able  to  join  the  "Societa  Armonica/'  an 
amateur  orchestral  society,  as  a  second  violin,  with 
which  I  was  quite  content. 

In  a  biographical  sketch  which  appeared  shortly 
after  I  came  to  London,  it  was  stated  that,  besides 
being  a  vocalist  of  merit,  I  was  an  accomplished 
violinist,  which  kindly-intentioned  announcement 
placed  me  on  one  occasion  in  a  ludicrous  dilemma. 
I  was  invited  to  assist  at  a  musical  soiree  at  Ernst 
Pauers  one  evening.  The  first  item  in  the  pro- 
gramme was  a  string  quartette  in  which  Joachim 
was  to  play  first  violin,  and  as  the  gentleman  who 
had  promised  to  play  second  had  not  arrived  some 
time  after  the  time  fixed  for  commencing,  to  mv 
dismay  I  was  asked  to  take  his  place,  being  an 
"accomplished  violinist."  I  respectfully  declined, 
and  felt  very  much  ashamed  of  having  sailed  under 
false. colours,  although  I  had  nothing  to  do  with  the 
statement,  whose  author  I  do  not  know,  nor  do  I 
know  from  whence  he  received  his  information. 

My  school-days  were  drawing  to  a  close.  At 
midsummer,  1849,  I  was  to  make  my  entry  into  the 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY         23 

commercial  world,  or  as  soon  after  as  I  could  procure 
a  situation.  I  did  not  look  forward  with  unalloyed 
pleasure  to  office-work,  but  as  I  saw  it  was  my  inevi- 
table fate,  I  resigned  myself  with  as  good  a  grace  as 
I  could.  On  nry  fifteenth  birthday  I  passed  my 
examination,  and  was  elected  a  performing-  member 
of  the  Philharmonic  Society.  The  new  hall  was  to 
be  opened  in  the  following  August,  and  I  must  con- 
fess I  sincerely  hoped  my  fate  would  not  dispose  of 
me  before  that  time,  and  so  prevent  my  taking  part 
in  the  inaugural  performances.  My  father  and  sister 
\vcre  also  elected  members,  but  without  any  trial,  as 
their  capacity  was  already  known.  Soon  after  my 
election  I  sang  in  the  chorus  in  the  performance  of 
the  "Creation"  I  have  noticed  at  the  end  of  the 
previous  chapter,  and  in  the  summer  I  was  one  of  a 
picked  chorus  who  sang  in  the  "Messiah"  at  the 
Eisteddfod  held  in  Rhuddlan  Castle.  Misses  Lu- 
eombe  (afterwards  Mrs.  Sims  Reeves),  Camilla 
Chipp,  and  Charlotte  Dolby,  and  Messrs.  Sims 
Reeves  and  Machin  were  the  soloists.  The  orches- 
tra was  not  large,  but  fortunately  very  choice,  or 
the  worthy  man  who  tried  to  conduct  would  have 
led  us  all  to  destruction. 

It  is  unwise  in  a  man  who  lias  not  had  the  chance 
of  gaining  experience  to  undertake  to  conduct  an 
orchestra  on  an  important  occasion.  The  attractions 
of  the  "stick."  however,  seem  to  be  irresistible.  I 
have  suffered  from  it  to  no  small  extent  during  my 
career. 


24          REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

As  soon  as  the  crush-room  of  the  new  hall  could 
be  made  ready,  and  sufficient  of  an  organ  erected  to 
accompany-,  we  proceeded  to  rehearse  the  music  to 
be  performed  at  the  festival  —  at  first  once,  later  on 
twice  and  three  times  a  week.  As  the  rehearsals 
became  frequent  I  found  singing  in  too  high  a 
register  strained  my  voice,  and  occasionally  when  I 
could  escape  observation  I  took  a  rest  —  much  against 
my  will,  as  I  Avas  very  earnest  in  the  work.  To 
force  myself  to  keep  silence  I  distracted  my  atten- 
tion, noting  what  was  going  on  about  me,  for  which 
my  elevated  position  —  near  the  back  row  of  the 
orchestra  —  furnished  me  with  ample  opportunity. 
Of  those  in  my  immediate  vicinity,  I  could  not 
avoid  remarking  some  to  whom  even  a  simple  psalm- 
tune  without  accompaniment  must  have  been  a  hard 
nut  to  crack.  Down  below,  in  front  of  me,  the  con- 
ductor (the  treasurer  and  sub- conductor  of  the  soci- 
ety) proved  an  attractive  distraction;  had  his  ability 
been  proportionate  to  his  gymnastic  vigour  we  might 
have  mastered  all  our  work  for  the  festival  in  a  third 
of  the  time  we  spent  over  it.  He  must  have  cost 
the  society  a  small  fortune  in  sticks,  the  pieces  flew 
about  at  times  like  a  shower  of  hail.  But  the  most 
amusing  distraction  of  all  I  found  in  watching  some 
half-dozen  amateur  violinists,  performing  members, 
who  volunteered  their  services  to  assist  at  the 
rehearsals.  In  the  fortes  it  seemed  as  though  no 
cords  manufactured  from  silkworms'  or  even  cats' 
intestines  could  resist  the  terrific  sweep  of  their 


A'/:.UL\'IS( 7-.XCES    OF   CHARLES   SAX T LEY          25 

hows;  hut  in  the  pianos,  where  Best  (our  organist) 
left  them  free  scope  to  shine  out,  I  noticed  —  the 
result  probably  of  the  vigorous  bowing  aforesaid  — 
strings  required  mending  or  bows  had  to  be  cleared 
of  loose  hairs.  The  flies  and  other  noxious  insects 
sent  to  torment  the  wicked  Israelites  apparently 
renounced  all  idea  of  a  concerted  plan  of  attack  and 
flew  about  wildly  in  all  directions:  the  tire  caused 
the  hail  to  evaporate  before  it  could  reach  the 
ground,  and  Elijah's  prayers  were  responded  to  by 
the  feeble  dribblings  of  a  leaky  watering-pot. 

Occasionally  a  bandmaster  named  Gribbin  attended 
these  rehearsals  to  lead  the  amateurs  to  the  attack. 
He  was  a  rough,  energetic  fiddler,  and  a  practical 
joker;  when  opportunity  offered  he  would  make  a 
feint  of  attacking  vigorously,  inducing  his  unwary 
followers  to  rush  on  to  their  destruction,  and  expos- 
ing them  to  the  ire  of  the  conductor  and  the  derisive 
cheers  of  the  choristers. 

Fortune  favoured  me:  I  was  free  to  assist  at  the 
festival,  and  I  looked  forward  with  unbounded  de- 
light to  the  great  musical  feast  I  was  about  to  enjoy. 
The  chorus,  numbering  about  three  hundred,  was  in 
a  highly  efficient  state:  by  dint  of  going  over  the 
same  ground  so  often  even  the  most  obtuse  had  suc- 
ceeded in  absorbing  their  music;  the  sub-conduct  or 
abdicated,  and  the  amateur  tiddlers  were  relegated 
to  the  auditorium.  The  full  rehearsals  commenced 
with  the  "  Klijah."  I  was  so  excited  I  had  the 
utmost  difficulty  in  keeping  my  attention  fixed  on 


26  REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

my  own  work ;  do  what  I  would  I  could  not  avoid 
listening  to  the  orchestra,  which,  except  a  few  of  the 
strings,  consisted  of  the  leading  members  of  the 
London  orchestras  then  in  their  prime  —  Sainton, 
Hlagrove,  Hill,  Lucas,  Piatti,  Howell,  Bottesini, 
Barrett,  Nicholson,  Lazarus,  Maycock,  Baumann, 
Platt,  Harper,  Cioiri,  Prospere,  and  Chipp. 

The  "'Elijah,''  being  comparatively  a  new  work, 
was  rehearsed  in  its  entirety,  so  I  had  an  oppor- 
tunity of  hearing  the  solo  parts  as  well  as  the 
choruses,  with  the  orchestral  accompaniment.  I 
was  too  young  and  inexperienced  to  grasp  all  its 
beauties  (after  all  these  years  I  find  new  ones  each 
time  I  take  part  in  it),  but  what  I  did  seize  sufficed 
to  impress  me  with  the  reality  of  the  genius  of  its 
immortal  composer.  As  the  fine  dramatic  scenes 
succeeded  each  other  my  excitement  increased,  until 
the  rush  of  the  deluge  of  tropical  rain  utterly  over- 
whelmed me.  I  dropped  into  my  seat  powerless ;  it 
seemed  as  though  the  heavens  had  opened  in  reality 
and  poured  down  their  waters  in  a  cataract  on  my 
devoted  head.  The  whole  week  was  one  of  intense 
excitement;  I  ate,  drank,  and  dreamed  music.  At 
the  rehearsal  of  Rossini's  "  Stabat  Mater,"  in  my 
eagerness,  I  did  not  notice  the  bar's  rest  before  the 
"Amen,"  and  performed  a  solo,  which  called  forth 
some  witty  remark  from  Benedict  about  the  future 
career  of  the  singer  who  made  the  '"domino,''  and 
some  merriment  at  my  expense  from  the  orchestra. 

For  the  sake  of  uniformity  the  committee  requested 


KEML\'ISCI-:NCES  OF  CHARLES  SAXTLEY       27 

tin-  gentlemen  of  the  chorus  to  appear  at  the  morn- 
ing performances  in  black  frock-coats  and  dark  waist- 
coats and  trousers,  at  the  evening  concerts  in  black 
dress-coats  and  trousers  and  white  waistcoats.  I 
still  wore  an  Eton  jacket,  so  had  no  difficulty  about 
the  coat;  but  I  did  not  possess  a  white  Avaisteoat, 
nor  had  I  money  to  invest  in  one.  I  accepted  the 
loan  of  one.  several  sixes  too  large,  from  an  uncle, 
which  had  to  be  pinned  up  to  fit  my  then  slender 
frame.  I  was  perfectly  satislied,  but  I  must  have 
cut  a  comical  ligure,  as  I  was  made  the  object  of  an 
extensive  display  of  wit,  against  which  my  courage 
was  not  proof,  so  after  the  first  evening  I  wore  my 
S un day  vest  of  blue  cashmere. 

I  have  no  notes  or  programmes  of  the  perform- 
ances: I  cannot  therefore  give  any  detailed  account 
of  them.  Of  the  singers  the  one  who  impressed  me 
most  was  Madame  Viardot  Garcia,  signally  in  the 
scene  of  Queen  Je/ebel  in  the  "Elijah";  the  song, 
"If  guiltless  blood,"  from  "Susannah":  and  the 
great  air,  "  Leise,  leise,  Fromnie  wcise,"  from  "Dei1 
Freischiitz."  'No  woman  in  my  day  has  ever  ap- 
proached Madame  Viardot  as  a  dramatic  singer ;  she 
was  perfect,  as  far  as  it  is  possible  to  attain  perfec- 
tion, both  as  singer  and  actress.  The  only  man  who 
was  worthy  to  rank  with  her  was  Giorgio  Ronconi; 
he  was  not  engaged  at  the  festival,  but  I  cannot 
help  introducing  his  name  here  whilst  speaking  of 
Madame  Viardot.  I  had  the  good  fortune  to  hear 
them  together  as  Papageno  and  Papagena,  in  the 


28  REMINISCENCES    OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

"Magic  Flute,"  at  Covent  Garden,  in  1851;  the 
duet  in  the  last  act  was  a  tine  piece  of  low  comedy. 
Roneoni  was  a  perfect  imp  at  playing  tricks,  but  he 
never  played  the  fool  however  farcical  the  scene  in 
which  he  was  engaged.  Many  frequenters  of  the 
Royal  Italian  Opera  must  still  remember  his  won- 
derful by-play  whilst  Adelina  Patti  was  singing 
"Batti,  batti  "  and  "Vedrai  carino  "  in  '"Don  Gio- 
vanni"; how  he  added  to  the  effect  of  her  singing 
without  distracting  the  attention  of  the  audience 
from  herself.  I  have  seen  Madame  Viardot  play 
Donna  Anna  in  "Don  Giovanni,"  Desdemona  in 
Rossini's  "Otello,"  and  Fides  in  "II  Profeta," 
three  fine  specimens  of  tragedy;-  Rosina  in  the 
"Barbiere  di  Saviglia,"  a  sparkling  piece  of  comedy 
united  to  superb  singing;  and  Amina  in  "La  8<m- 
nambula,"  a  poetic  creation  only  equalled  by  Mad- 
ame Carvalho's  Marguerite  in  "Faust." 

I  have  often  heard  actors  remark,  "  He  is  not  a 
bad  actor  for  a  singer!  "  What  condescension  !  The 
dramatic  genius  and  versatility  of  these  two  great 
artists  I  have  never  seen  excelled;  and  seldom 
equalled  by  any  actor  in  my  day.  I  once,  only 
once,  had  the  happiness  of  taking  part  in  an  opera 
with  Ronconi,  in  "Don  Giovanni,"  at  the  New 
York  Academy  in  1872,  when  I  played  Don  Gio- 
vanni and  he  Leporello.  His  acting  in  the  last 
scene,  when  the  statue  appears,  was  of  itself  suffi- 
cient to  justify  all  I  have  said  of  his  genius.  With 
Madame  Viardot  I  never  had  a  chance  of  appearing 


REMINISCENCES    OF   CHARLES  SAXTLEY          29 

on  the  stage  —  I  was  but  a  crude  beginner  when  she 
was  retiring.  Another  great  artist,  great  both  in 
bulk  and  genius,  I  heard,  and  I  always  regret  for 
the  only  time,  at  the  festival — Luigi  Lablache.  I 
have  heard  many  sinee  try  to  sing  Rossini's  "Tar- 
antella," but  his  wonderful  execution  of  it  remains 
undisturbed  in  my  memory.  Mario,  then  at  his 
zenith,  sang  splendidly;  in  after  years  we  became 
intimate  friends,  and  many  a  good  lesson  I  have  had 
from  him. 

I  had  only  one  fault  to  find  with  the  festival  — 
with  all  the  rehearsals  and  performances,  it  was  too 
short.  How  the  experience  of  a  few  years  alters 
one's  ideas ! 

My  first  important  journey  was  to  London,  in 
!>•')!,  to  see  the  great  Exhibition.  I  enjoyed  myself 
very  much,  except  for  the  Exhibition  itself,  which  I 
found  an  intolerable  bore.  My  great  feasts  were  at 
the  Opera,  where  I  saw  "II  Profeta"  and  "II  Flauto 
Mugico,''  and  at  Exeter  Hall,  where  I  heard  the 
"Creation."  After  these  my  great  delight  consisted 
in  wandering  and  staring  about  the  streets.  I 
became  enamoured  of  London,  and,  probably  influ- 
enced l>y  the  history  of  Richard  Whittington,  con- 
ceived a  great  desire  to  become  a  citizen.  My  desire 
lias  since  been  fulfilled.  A  few  years  ago  I  was 
elected  a  member  of  the  Musicians'  Company. 

In  1851  I  was  in  the  second  year  of  my  appren- 
ticeship to  a  firm  in  the  American  provision  trade, 
at  the  termination  of  which  I  was  engaged  as  book- 


30  REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  S ANT  LEY 

keeper  in  a  branch  of  the  most  extensive  leather  and 
hide  factors'  in  the  world.  All  my  spare  time  I 
devoted  to  music.  I  was  a  member  of  the  Philhar- 
monic Society,  where  I  continued  to  sing  tenor  in 
the  chorus  until  I  felt  convinced  I  was  injuring  my 
voice.  I  played  the  violin  for  some  time  at  the 
Festival  Choral  Society,  and  was  a  member  of  a 
Glee  Union  conducted  by  Joseph  Lidel,  an  accom- 
plished violoncellist,  who  took  a  great  fancy  to  me; 
it  was  chiefly  through  his  friendly  disinterested 
interference  that  it  was  ultimately  determined  I 
should  make  music  my  profession.  I  also  became  a 
member  of  the  Societa  Armonica,  of  which  I  have 
before  spoken,  conducted  by  Charles  Baader  Her- 
mann. Although  I  was  not  a  great  executant,  I 
was  a  good  reader,  and  was  elected  to  the  post  of 
principal  second  violin  in  preference  to  some  of  my 
more  skilful  colleagues.  I  never  enjoyed  myself, 
engaged  in  music,  so  much  as  I  did  at  our  practices. 
I  was  "terribly  in  earnest,"  and  on  one  occasion  fell 
a  victim  to  my  zeal.  We  were  trying  Beethoven's 
Symphony  in  B  flat,  always  my  favourite.  At  the 
end  of  the  first  movement  I  became  so  excited  in  my 
work  that  I  added  an  extra  bar  to  the  score  —  my 
second  "domino"  —and  was  rewarded  by  a  burst  of 
friendly  ironical  cheers,  which  for  a  few  moments 
considerably  damped  my  ardour. 

My  friend  Charles  Hermann  took  great  interest  in 
me,  and,  fearing  my  voice,  which  promised  well  (I 
was  only  sixteen),  might  suffer  if  I  continued  sing- 


KF.MfXISCENCES    OF   CHARLES   S ANT  LEY          31 

ing,  recommended  me  to  change  from  the  chorus  to 
the  orchestra  of  the  Philharmonic  Society.  I  applied 
for  permission  to  the  secretary,  from  whom  I  received 
a  very  ungracious  rebuff.  As  I  could  not  keep 
aloof  from  any  music  in  which  I  had  the  opportunity 
of  taking  part,  after  two  months'  cessation  I  returned 
to  the  chorus.  I  then  determined  on  conversion, 
and,  with  the  sanction  of  the  committee,  took  my 
place  among  the  basses. 

My  lirst  essay  as  a  soloist  was  at  St.  Ann's  Catho- 
lic Church,  Edgehill,  where  for  some  time  I  had 
accompanied  my  sister,  who  was  the  leading  soprano, 
and  assisted  in  the  chorus  among  the  tenors.  They 
had  no  professional  bass  singer,  and,  as  I  learned 
they  were  looking  out  for  one,  I  applied  to  the  con- 
ductor for  the  post.  He  smiled  dubiously,  but 
allowed  me  to  make  a  trial.  I  sang  the  short  solo, 
"Et  incarnatus  est,"  in  Haydn's  Second  Mass,  read- 
ing off  the  same  copy  with  Julius1  Stockhausen, 
who,  witli  his  friend  E.  Silas,  was  at  that  time 
residing  in  Liverpool.  I  obtained  the  situation, 
and  soon  afterwards  made  my  appearance  in  public 
at  a  concert  given  by  the  Glee  Union  before  men- 
tioned. I  sang  "Rage!  thou  angry  storm,"  from 
Hern-diet's  opera,  "The  Gipsy's  Warning,"  which  I 
had  shortly  before  heard  Standigl  sing.  Of  course, 
I  tried  my  best  to  imitate  him,  and  I  dar.e  say  I 
succeeded — very  imperfectly!  No  doubt,  there  was 

1  He  was  called  Jules  then,  as  he  had  just  come  from  Paris, 
where  he  learned  singing. 


32  REMINISCENCES    OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

an  unmistakable  trace  of  his  influence,  and  Lidel 
ever  after  called  me  young  Standigl.  Costa,  the 
first  time  I  sang  for  him,  remarked  a  great  similarity 
in  the  tone  of  my  voice  to  that  of  Standigl.  I  only 
heard  him  about  three  times,  and  those  towards  the 
end  of  his  career.  No  singer  has  ever  had  such  a 
peculiar  effect  on  me,  apart  from  his  singing.  Each 
time  he  stepped  on  to  the  platform  I  felt  a  thrill  run 
through  my  whole  body,  as  though  he  possessed 
some  magnetic  influence  over  me. 


CHAPTER   III 

Carl  Formes'  Influence  upon  me  —  My  Ignorance  of  Kegisters  — 
The  Mistakes  of  Singing  Masters :  Jean  de  Reszke,  Mario,  and 
Sims  Reeves  —  A  Plague  of  Doctors  —  Officious  Friends  predict 
my  Approaching  Decease  —  The  Monotony  of  Business  —  A 
.Momentous  Decision  —  My  Farewell  Concert  —  Sims  Reeves' 
Encouragement  —  Start  for  Italy.  <  >rtobt'r,  1855  —  The  Tyranny 
of  Fashion  —  The  Art  of  Smoking  —  Mario's  Fondness  for 
Tobacco. 

I  CAXNOT  now  call  to  mind  all  the  occasions  on 
which  I  appeared  in  public.  I  believe  the  second 
was  at  a  concert  of  the  Societa  Armonica,  when  I 
fiddled  through  the  first  part,  and  sang  "  Haste  nor 
lose  the  fav'ring  hour,"  from  "Der  Freischiitz,"  in 
the  second.  Fiddling  is  not  good  preparation  for 
singing ;  but  I  did  my  best,  whatever  that  may  have 
been,  and  evidently  satisfied  my  public,  as  they  made 
me  repeat  the  song. 

Owing  to  a  misunderstanding  between  our  choir- 
master and  the  head  priest  of  St.  Anne's,  the  whole 
choir  migrated  to  the  Jesuit  church  of  St.  Francis 
Xavier's,  where  I  often  had  an  opportunity  of  sing- 
ing a  solo  in  the  evening  before  Benediction.  As 
soon  as  I  adopted  the  bass  clef,  I  let  my  hair  grow 
long,  in  imitation  of  Carl  Formes,  and  tried  to  grunt 
lie  low  the  lines  of  the  bass  stave;  but  my  mane 

33 


34  REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

never  attained  the  luxuriance  of  my  model's,  and 
my  voice  was  like  a  penny  whistle  in  comparison  to 
his.  I  was  so  struck  by  Formes'  singing  of  "In 
diesen  heil'gen  Hallen,"  from  "Die  Zauberrlb'te," 
that,  finding  an  arrangement  of  the  air  to  Latin 
words,  I  was  ambitious  enough  to  try  it  one  evening 
in  church.  I  got  on  very  fairly  until  I  arrived  at 
the  final  cadence,  in  which  I  intended  to  descend  to 
the  lower  E.  Unluckily,  I  forgot  the  organ  was 
half  a  note  below  the  usual  pitch,  and,  being  nerv- 
ous to  boot,  failed,  to  my  utter  confusion,  to  produce 
a  sound,  and  retired  to  my  place  cheered  by  the 
sniggering  of  my  fellow  basses. 

I,  like  most  people  in  England  at  that  time,  had 
not  recognized  the  difference  between  baritone  and 
bass  —  baritone  was  only  considered  a  light  bass!  I 
had  no  one  to  guide  me,  and  sang  indiscriminately 
one  or  the  other;  my  ambition,  as  soon  as  I  forsook 
the  tenor  clef,  being  to  arrive  at  the  cellar  region. 
Often  have  I  heard  the  remark,  "You  don't  call  that 
a  bass!  Why,  he's  only  a  baritone!"  In  Italy  I 
found  the  only  was  applied  to  basses,  and  that  bari- 
tones were  held  in  much  greater  esteem,  inasmuch 
as  every  bass  who  could  ascend  by  any  means  to  the 
high  F  called  himself  baritone.  In  England  women 
are  sopranos  or  contraltos,  men  tenors  or  busses,  the 
intermediate  mezzo-soprano  in  women  and  baritone 
in  men,  and  the  different  qualities  of  soprano  and 
tenor  hold  no  position  of  their  own.  Still,  mezzo- 
soprano  is  as  distinct  from  soprano  and  contralto, 


REMINISCENCES    OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY         35 

and  baritone  from  tenor  or  bass,  as  soprano  and 
contralto,  tenor  and  bass  are  from  each  other.  Be- 
yond this,  there  is  in  Italy  a  distinction  between 
light  and  dramatic  soprano  and  light  and  robust 
t t-ii or,  which  in  England  does  not  seem  to  be  under- 
stood. In  England  a  soprano,  whatever  style  of 
voice  she  may  possess,  is  expected  to  sing  anything 
written  for  a  soprano  voice;  it  may  be  Amina  one 
day  and  the  soprano  music  in  the  "Elijah"1  another. 
A  tenor,  either  light  or  robust,  must  be  prepared 
to  sing  the  music  of  Elvino  or  the  tenor  music  in 
the  "Messiah,"  most  of  which  lies  much  below 
the  register  of  a  light  tenor,  as  the  "Sonnambula" 
music  is  above  the  register  of  a  robust  tenor.  In 
both  cases  the  voice  must  be  forced,  and  forcing  a 
voice  either  up  or  down,  beyond  deteriorating  the 
quality,  may  destroy  it  altogether.  This  is  notice- 
able mostly  in  contraltos.  As  a  rule,  they  force 
their  voices  to  produce  big  (ugly)  low  notes,  and  by 
so  doing  relax  the  vocal  cords  to  such  an  extent  that 
they  lose  their  power  to  produce  a  full,  steady  sound 
in  the  medium  or  natural  register,  the  result  being  a 
hole  in  the  voice  (which  no  exercise  can  bridge  over) 
and  false  intonation.  Fine  high  or  low  notes  pro- 
duce a  very  good  effect  if  used  with  discretion,  but 
if  abused  to  the  detriment  of  the  rest  of  the  voice, 
they  are  better  left  alone,  for  good  singing  does  not 
depend  on  extraordinary  notes,  but  on  the  proper 
use  of  the  ordinary  ones. 

The  quality  of  the  voice  alone  distinguishes  the 


36  REMINISCENCES    OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

register  —  with  a  young  uncultivated  voice  it  is 
often  difficult  to  decide ;  and  I  have  known  instances 
where  the  ablest  and  most  experienced  professors 
have  made  mistakes. 

A  notable  example  of  this  is  Jean  de  Reszke,  who 
some  years  ago  was  a  baritone  at  the  Italian  Opera, 
and  is  now  the  leading  tenor.  Mario  told  me  that 
his  first  essay  before  an  audience  Avas  in  the  bass 
part  of  the  trio  from  "  William  Tell ";  and  it  is  well 
known  (I  believe  he-relates  it  in  his  memoirs)  that 
Sims  Reeves  sang  baritone  for  some  time,  his  fav- 
ourite songs  being  "The  Wolf"  and  "The  White 
Squall." 

It  is  also  difficult  to  judge  of  the  power  of  a  voice ; 
in  my  opinion  it  is  a  mistake  to  attempt  to  do  so  in 
a  small  or  empty  room.  I  have  heard  voices  which 
in  the  green-room  were  overpowering,  and  on  the 
stage,  with  anything  like  a  full  accompaniment, 
were  almost  inaudible.  I  have  also  heard  voices 
which  in  a  small  room  displa}red  but  moderate 
power,  that  in  a  theatre  or  concert-room  expanded 
to  a  fulness  and  resonance  hardly  credible. 

In  Italy  the  voice  of  a  singer  is  said  to  be  an 
index  to  his  character.  Baritone  being  the  natural 
voice  of  man,  and  low  bass  and  tenor  being  caprices 
of  nature,  they  argue  that  baritones  are  steady  char- 
acters, whilst  low  basses  and  tenors  are  whimsical 
and  capricious.  Out  of  courtesy,  I  presume,  there  is 
no  law  laid  down  for  the  fair  sex. 

About    the    period   at   which   I    commenced   this 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY         37 

chapter  I  was  occasionally  subject  to  an  inconven- 
ience, which  in  after  years  gave  me  much  trouble 
and  anxiety,  caused  by  a  superabundance  of  saliva, 
which  I  was  perpetually  trying  to  swallow.  The 
muscles  of  the  throat  seemed  to  relax  in  consequence 
of  the  incessant  action,  and  the  voice,  instead  of 
issuing  with  freedom  and  vigour,  appeared  to  re- 
cede, producing  a  choking  sensation,  very  unfavour- 
able to  the  delivery  of  a  sustained  phrase.  For 
some  years  after  my  return  from  America  in  1872 
the  inconvenience  increased  to  such  an  extent  that 
at  one  time  I  thought  I  should  have  to  retire  from 
the  public  exercise  of  my  profession.  I  consulted 
several  medical  men,  who  subjected  me  to  a  variety 
of  treatments ;  one  starved  me,  another  stuffed  me, 
and  a  third  dosed  me  with  quinine,  strychnine,  and 
iron  until  I  almost  lost  the  sense  of  taste,  and  the 
sight  of  food  nauseated  me.  This  last  declared  my 
nervous  system  wras  all  upset,  and,  as  nothing 
seemed  to  set  it  right,  advised  me  a  sea- journey; 
accordingly,  I  crossed  to  America  and  back,  but 
without  any  beneficial  result.  As  a  supplementary 
worry  some  kind  friend  suggested  I  might  be  suffer- 
ing from  a  dangerous  internal  disorder,  and  some 
kiitJer  friend  spread  the  report  that  I  was  actually  a 
victim  to  the  disease,  and  that  I  had  onl}-  three 
months  to  live  (I  do  not  know  from  what  date).  I 
received  certainly  not  less  than  once  a  fortnight 
anonymous  letters  or  pamphlets  treating  of  the  cure 
of  the  disorder  in  question,  and  occasionally  old 


38          REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

acquaintances  stopped  me  in  the  street  to  condole 
with  me  on  my  approaching  decease,  and  mourn 
over  the  loss  it  would  entail  on  the  musical  world! 
Highly  flattering,  but  extremely  annoying.  At  the 
same  time  I  knew  from  experiment  that  I  not  only 
was  not  afflicted  with  the  fatal  disease,  but  that 
there  was  not  the  slightest  trace  of  it  in  my  body. 
I  suddenly  grew  much  thinner,  losing  about  two 
stone  in  three  months.  I  then  consulted  my  friend, 
Dr.  Owen  Rees,  who  found  that  my  trouble  was  the 
result  of  inactivity  of  my  liver,  and,  with  simple 
means,  in  a  few  months  he  restored  me  to  health 
better  than  I  had  ever  enjoyed.  It  is  curious  that, 
possessed  of  a  strong  constitution,  and  having  done 
more,  and  more  varied,  work  than  any  singer  (except 
Sims  Reeves)  before  the  public,  I  should  always 
have  been  singled  out  as  a  subject  for  a  premature 
end. 

A  short  time  before  I  started  for  Italy  in  1855  I 
met  a  fellow  chorister  of  the  Philharmonic  Society, 
who  hailed  me  with:  "So  I  hear  you  are  off  to 
Italy."  "I  am,"  I  replied.  "And  what  are  3-011 
going  to  do?  Study  singing!  Why,  man,  you'll 
leave  your  bones  there !  "  I  replied,  "  Such  is  not 
my  intention.  Why  do  you  think  so?"  "Why, 
man,  you're  in  a  galloping  consumption!  " 

I  grew  weary  of  the  monotonous  routine  of  keep- 
ing a  set  of  ledgers.  There  was  plenty  of  work  to 
do  in  them,  but  work  which  a  schoolboy  of  ordinary 
aptitude  for  figures  might  learn  to  do  in  a  week.  I 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  S ANT  LEY         39 

felt  no  interest  in  it,  nor  could  I  see  any  prospect  of 
altering  my  position  for  the  better  in  the  commercial 
world.  I  had  no  capital  to  invest  in  a  business,  and 
I  am  sure  I  was  not  possessed  by  the  spirit  of  com- 
merce; but  I  did  my  duty  faithfully,  and  had  the 
satisfaction  of  knowing  that  my  punctuality  and 
zeal  were  fully  recognized  by  my  principal.  On 
one  occasion  when  I  asked  for  a  few  days'  leave  of 
absence  to  go  to  the  country  he  told  me  I  was  at 
liberty  to  go  at  any  time,  provided  my  books  were 
made  up,  without  waiting  to  ask  his  permission. 
And  when  I  told  him  I  was  about  to  leave  his 
employ  to  go  to  study  in  Italy,  he  said,  "  If  I  double 
your  salary  from  to-day,  will  you  stay?''  I  replied, 
"Xo,  sir!"  "Then,"  said  he,  "I  see  you  have 
really  made  up  your  mind,  and  although  I  very 
much  regret  losing  you,  I  think  you  are  acting 
wisely;  here  there  is  nothing  for  you  to  look  for- 
ward to,  whilst  in  the  musical  profession  you  have 
the  world  before  you." 

One  day  towards  the  close  of  May,  1855,  as  my 
father  and  I  were  returning  to  business  after  dinner, 
I  remarked  that  I  did  not  see  any  prospect  of 
advancement  beyond  a  modest  position  at  a  moder- 
ate salary  in  my  present  employment.  He  replied, 
"Then  why  not  try  Italy?  Save  what  money  you 
can ;  go  and  study  in  Milan  for  a  time.  With  your 
voice  and  knowledge  of  music  you  can  surely  do 
something!"  I  was  so  dumfoundered  at  this  sud- 
den opening  of  a  path  out  of  the  thicket  of  despair 


40  REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  S A  NT  LEY 

that  I  could  not  speak;  but  I  acted  promptly,  and 
set  to  work  that  day  to  find  an  Italian  master.  A 
little  before  the  next  quarter-day,  June  30,  I  gave 
notice  of  my  resolution  to  my  employer,  with  the 
result  already  recorded.  Early  in  October  I  gave  a 
grand  farewell  concert  at  the  Lord  Nelson  Street 
Rooms,  assisted  by  my  elder  sister,  Mr.  A\r.  Ryalls, 
a  very  popular  tenor,  Mr.  T.  Armstrong,  the  princi- 
pal bass  singer  in  Liverpool,  and  Mr.  John  Radcliffe, 
the  celebrated  flautist,  then  Master  Radcliffe,  aged 
thirteen  —  my  father  presiding  at  the  piano  as  con- 
ductor. 

I  do  not  remember  the  exact  receipts,  but  the  net 
proceeds  amounted  to  about  X18. 

Through  Mr.  J.  Zeugheer  Hermann  I  received 
some  valuable  information  respecting  masters  in 
Milan  from  Sims  Reeves,  to  whom  I  was  afterwards 
introduced,  during  the  interval,  at  one  of  the  con- 
certs of  the  Philharmonic  Society,  when  he  spoke 
very  kindly  and  encouragingly  to  me.  Some  friends 
in  Chester  procured  me  a  letter  of  introduction  to  a 
gentleman  in  Milan,  which  I  was  not  at  all  anxious 
to  accept,  as  I  felt  shy  about  presenting  it,  but 
which  turned  out  to  be  of  the  utmost  importance,  as 
I  will  explain  further  on. 

Besides  the  few  pounds  I  made  by  my  concert  I 
had  saved  some  <£30  out  of  my  year's  salary.  I  had 
some  purchases  to  make  of  underclothing,  a  port- 
manteau, etc.,  which  reduced  my  capital  to  about 
£40,  with  which  sum  I  started  for  Milan  on  Satur- 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SAXTLEY          41 

dav,  October  27,  1855.  A  friend  had  jotted  down 
divers  available  routes,  of  which  I  chose  the  one  I 
conceived  would  be  the  shortest  and  cheapest — >•/</' 
Paris,  Basle,  Lucerne,  St.  Gothard,  and  Camerlata. 
I  stopped  in  London  over  the  Sunday,  which  I  spent 
chiefly  in  strolling  about  the  West  End,  and  enjoyed 
it  very  much,  especially  Hyde  Park,  to  my  great 
relief  divested  of  that  unsightly  Exhibition  building 
which  had  been  my  antipathy  in  1851. 

In  my  business  days  a  man  who  had  the  courage 
to  walk  abroad  in  a  turn-down  collar  or  with  an 
unshaven  face  was  set  down  as  a  blackleg  or  a  for- 
eigner. By  the  street  boys  he  was  invariably  held 
up  to  scorn  as  a  Frenchman,  and  assailed  with  the 
opprobrious  epithet  of  "Mounseer"  or  "Frog."  A 
clerk  with  a  moustache  would  not  have  been  toler- 
ated: with  a  turn-down  collar  he  would  have  been 
looked  upon  with  suspicion,  as  a  probable  frequenter 
of  the  music-hall  or  billiard-saloon,  neither  of  which, 
at  that  time,  were  the  resorts  of  respectable  youths ; 
and  it  was  not  the  custom  for  young  men  to  smoke 
cigars  and  pipes  on  their  way  to  business  —  the  ex- 
ceptions to  the  rule  were  considered  eccentric,  if 
nothing  worse. 

I  was  doomed  to  wear  on  my  neck  an  instrument 
of  torture,  which  I  conceived  must  be  an  invention 
of  the  enemy,  it  was  so  hideous  and  inconvenient. 
But  as  soon  as  I  found  myself  in  London,  released 
from  the  fetters  of  commerce,  I  turned  down  my 
collar  and  breathed  freely.  Nature  saved  me  the 


42  REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

trouble  of  shaving  by  retarding  the  growth  of  my 
facial  hirsute  appendage,  and  I  could  not  smoke; 
nor  did  I  acquire  the  habit  until  I  was  twenty-eight 
years  of  age. 

I  am  often  asked  if  I  consider  smoking  bad  for  a 
singer.  Scientifically  I  cannot  offer  an  opinion, 
practically  I  think  I  can.  Smoking  is  an  art;  it 
may  be  made  useful  or  otherwise  according  as  it  is 
exercised.  By  some  it  is  called  a  filthy  habit.  J 
cannot  understand  why.  Tobacco  is  as  clean  a 
plant  as  tea  or  coffee ;  even  its  substitute,  said  to  be 
used  occasionally  in  the  manufacture  of  cigars  — 
the  domestic  cabbage  —  is  not  filthy.  An  inartistic 
smoker,  like  any  other  inartistic  individual,  may 
"make  a  mess'';  a  person  who  paints  may  daub  his 
attire  and  person  with  the  pigments  he  ought  to  lay 
on  his  canvas,  but  I  should  not  call  him  a  "painter." 
So  a  person  who  smokes  may  expectorate  into  the 
grate  or  about  the  room,  or  scatter  ashes  in  places 
not  intended  for  their  reception,  but  I  would  not 
call  that  person  a  "smoker." 

Being  an  art  it  requires  study  and  attention  to 
make  it  useful,  yet  how  few  people  who  smoke 
study  their  art  and  can  claim  to  be  called  "smok- 
ers"! It  is  just  the  same  with  riding.  Of  hun- 
dreds who  mount  and  remain  fairly  seated  on  a 
horse,  however  vicious  he  may  be,  few  become 
"riders."  Of  thousands  who  cover  canvas  and 
] taper  with  colours,  and  produce  pleasant  and  even 
striking  results  it  is  not  easy  to  find  one  "painter." 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SAXTLEY         43 

Out  of  myriads  who  use  their  voices  in  various  -ways 
according  to  the  strength  of  their  lungs  and  the  for- 
mation of  their  throats  it  is  difficult  to  find  one 
"singer.'' 

A  "smoker"  ought  to  be  able  to  distinguish 
between  a  German  cigar,  dear  at  seven  pounds  a 
thousand,  and  a  Havana  worth  eight  guineas  a 
hundred,  whereas  many  persons  who  smoke  cannot. 
He  ought  to  smoke  without  expectorating.  He 
ought  not  to  chew  the  end  of  his  cigar  or  the 
mouthpiece  of  his  pipe.  He  ought  never  to  alhnv 
a  drop  of  tobacco-juice  to  pass  hey.mcl  his  lips.  He 
ought  neither  to  puff  his  tolmcco  for  the  mere  sake 
of  enveloping  himself  in  a  cloud  of  smoke,  nor  have 
to  make  repeated  visits  to  the  match-box.  And 
above  all,  he  ought  not  to  go  about  the  whole  day 
long  with  a  pipe  or  cigar  in  his  mouth,  but  confine 
himself  to  a  moderate  use  of  them.  I  do  not  arro- 
gate to  myself  the  right  to  dictate  laws ;  I  simply 
recommend  these  observations  to  the  consideration 
of  those  who  smoke,  as  I  believe  that,  with  atten- 
tion to  them,  any  healthy  human  being  may  smoke 
with  impunity,  and  in  a  good  cigar  or  pipe  of  good 
tobacco  find  a  source  of  enjoyment,  consolation,  and 
benefit. 

I  took  to  smoking  as  a  preventive  of  indigestion, 
and  found  it  a  palliative  if  not  a  remedy,  and  more 
agreeable  than  ordinary  medicine.  As  a  rule  I  do 
not  smoke  during  the  working  season  until  the 
evening,  after  dinner,  but  if  I  have  to  sing  in  a 


44  REMLVJSCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

matinee  I  smoke  a  cigar  after  lunch.  I  find  it 
soothes  the  nerves  and  clears  away  cobwebs. 

I  have  never  known  a  great  singer  who  did  not 
smoke.  Mario,  for  instance,  smoked  a  great  deal, 
and  apparently  it  did  him  no  harm.  He  smoked 
from  twenty-five  to  thirty  ordinary-sized  cigars  a 
day,  and  in  Italy,  where  real  Havana  cigars  are 
rarely  obtainable,  he  used  to  smoke  a  hundred  Ca- 
vours  a  day.  The  first  time  he  accompanied  the 
Mapleson  Italian  Opera  tour,  our  luggage  was  sent 
on  to  Dublin  by  the  North  Wall  boat,  which  arrived 
the  day  after  we  arrived  by  the  mail.  I  was  wan- 
dering about  in  search  of  my  portmanteau  in  the 
morning,  when  I  saw  Mario's  servant,  who  told  me 
his  master  was  awake;  so  I  stepped  into  his  room 
and  sat  down  on  the  bed  to  have  a  chat.  He  took  a 
cigar  out  of  his  case,  which  he  always  kept  close  at 
hand,  and  offered  me  one.  At  first  I  declined,  as  I 
was  not  accustomed  to  tobacco  at  such  an  early  hour 
as  8  a.m.,  and  before  breakfast.  However,  he 
pressed  me,  and  I  thought  I  might  as  well  keep 
him  company,  so  we  both  lighted  up.  We  grew 
interested  in  our  conversation,  one  cigar  succeeded 
another,  and  by  nine  o'clock,  when  his  man  an- 
nounced my  portmanteau  had  been  taken  to  my  room, 
he  had  disposed  of  five,  and  I  of  three. 

I  do  not  advocate  smoking,  nor  do  I  deem  it 
necessary  to  smoke  to  become  an  artist;  my  remark, 
that  I  have  never  known  a  great  singer  who  did  not 
smoke,  I  put  forward  merely  as  a  curious  coinci- 


REMINISCENCES    OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY          45 

dence.  Those  who  feel  at  all  incommoded  or 
unpleasantly  affected  by  smoking  had  much  better 
leave  it  alone. 

But,  indeed,  is  not  every  occupation  of  our  lives, 
be  it  for  amusement,  instruction,  or  gain,  an  art? 
Even  supplying  the  inner  man  with  food  and  drink 
is  an  art,  which,  if  properly  studied,  and  exercised 
with  judgment,  would  go  far  to  abolish  gluttony 
and  indigestion,  and  anger,  hatred,  and  malice 
would  diminish,  to  the  great  advantage  of  the  world 
in  general.  I  do  not  care  how  low  in  the  scale  the 
occupation  may  be,  or  the  person  employed  in  it  —  a 
scullery-maid  scouring  pots  and  pans,  or  a  groom 
sweeping  out  the  refuse  from  a  stable  —  art  can  be, 
and  often  is,  brought  into  requisition,  as  attentive 
observation  will  verify.  I  have  more  to  say  on  the 
subject  of  eating  and  drinking,  but  it  is  too  early 
in  the  day,  and  there  is  still  a  great  deal  of  work  to 
be  done  before  we  may  sit  down  and  feast,  so  I  will 
defer  further  dissertation  thereon  to  a  later  chapter. 


CHAPTER    IV 

Kan-well  to  Liverpool  —  Lack  of  Appreciation  in  my  Native  Town 
—  Experiences  on  my  Journey  —  A  Breakfast  at  Havre  —  I  wit- 
ness a  Performance  at  the  Paris  Opera  Comique  —  Cruvelli  at 
the  Italian  Opera  —  Journey  to  Basle  —  Passage  of  the  St. 
Gothard  —  Arrival  at  Milan  —  Scene  at  the  Railway-station  — 
The  Milanese  Dialect  —  An  Attack  of  Iloine-sickness  —  Travel- 
lers, Old  and  New  Style. 

I  LEFT  home  without  regret,  except  that  of  part- 
ing with  my  parents,  sisters  and  brother,  with  the 
expectation  of  not  seeing  them  again  for  a  long 
time.  I  had  never  before  passed  more  than  four 
weeks  away  from  my  father's  roof.  Leaving  Liver- 
pool did  not  cost  me  a  pang.  I  had  never  had  a 
great  affection  for  my  native  town,  nor  for  many  of 
the  people  belonging  to  it,  and  the  climate  did  not 
suit  me.  I  had  experienced  no  favour  from  a 
quarter  where  I  think  I  was  justified  in  looking  for 
some.  I  was  a  performing  member  of  the  Philhar- 
monic Society  from  February,  1849,  until  the  begin- 
ning of  1855.  Although  during  the  last  three  years 
of  that  period  I  had  met  with  a  considerable  amount 
of  appreciation  as  a  public  singer,  and  opportunities 
frequently  occurred  when  the  society  might  have 
availed  itself  of  my  gratuitous  services,  and  done 

something   to   forward   my   interests,    I   never   was 
46 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY         47 

invited  to  take  a  solo  part  in  any  performance. 
Beside  the  subscription  concerts,  for  which  artists 
from  London  were  engaged,  there  were  minor  per- 
formances of  oratorio  with  local  soloists  accompa- 
nied on  the  organ.  On  one  occasion  Horslev's 
"David"  —  which  was  first  brought  out  by  the 
society  —  was  given:  the  principal  bass  part  was 
allotted  to  Mr.  Armstrong,  and  the  other  less  impor- 
tant bass  part,  which  I  hoped  might  be  offered  to 
me,  was  intrusted  to  Mr.  Scarisbrick,  a  mediocre 
singer,  one  of  the  choir  of  Chester  Cathedral.  Mr. 
Armstrong  was  prevented  from  fulfilling  his  engage- 
ment, owing  to  the  death  of  his  father;  I  then 
thought,  surely  I  must  have  a  chance!  But  no: 
rather  than  favour  me,  Mr.  Scarisbrick  was  re- 
quested to  sing  both  parts.  At  the  last  rehearsal, 
however,  when  we  arrived  at  the  double  quartette, 
there  arose  a  difficulty.  The  conductor  exclaimed: 
"What  are  we  to  do  now?  We  have  no  first  bass!  " 
Miss  Stott,  our  leading  soprano,  who  had  always 
displayed  a  friendly  interest  in  me,  spoke  out: 
"Surely,  Mr.  Conductor,  there  can  be  no  difficulty; 
Mr.  Santley  is  standing  there ! ''  The  conductor 
turned  round  and  said :  "  If  Mr.  Santley  thinks  he 
can  sing  the  part,  I  shall  be  glad  if  he  will  oblige 
us  by  trying-"  I  sang  it,  and  that  was  the  only 
occasion,  except  when  I  made  the  false  start  in  the 
amen  of  Rossini's  "Stabat  Mater,"  already  recorded, 
on  which  my  voice  was  heard  in  the  Philharmonic 
Hall,  until  I  returned  from  Italv.  I  was  never 


48  REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

again  asked  to  undertake  tlie  smallest  solo  part.  I 
felt  hurt,  and  seceded  from  the  society  at  the  com- 
mencement of  the  season  1854-5.  When  I  gave  my 
farewell  concert,  I  purposely  chose  a  Monday  even- 
ing, being  the  rehearsal  night  of  the  Philharmonic, 
that  they  might  understand  I  did  not  intend  to  beg 
any  favour  of  them.  Very  foolish,  and  probably 
worse,  no  doubt,  but  I  was  piqued  at  the  treatment 
I  had  received,  and  was  too  young  to  exercise 
patience  and  judgment. 

On  Monday,  October  29,  1855,  I  started  for  Paris, 
via  Southampton  and  Havre.  It  was  not  until  we 
were  clear  of  Southampton  that  I  felt  myself  free 
from  a  recall  home,  and  I  learned  some  years  after 
that  my  father  had  so  many  misgivings  about  my 
undertaking  that  several  times  he  was  on  the  point 
of  following  me  to  London  to  beg  of  me  not  to 
pursue  my  journey.  Once  out  of  England,  I  knew 
I  was  safe  —  at  any  rate,  as  far  as  Milan;  but  after 
my  arrival  there,  I  did  not  know  what  might  hap- 
pen. Forty  pounds  was  a  small  sum  with  which  to 
start  on  a  course  of  study  in  a  land  of  whose  cus- 
toms I  knew  nothing,  and  of  whose  language  I 
knew  little  more.  I  hoped  in  a  few  months  to  be 
in  a  position  to  obtain  some  small  engagement.  My 
views  were  not  ambitious  —  anything  for  a  begin- 
ning, b}T  which  I  might  supplement  my  capital,  so 
as  to  keep  body  and  soul  together,  gain  experience, 
and  pursue  my  studies  at  the  same  time.  My  father 
promised  to  assist  me  as  far  as  he  could,  but  I  had 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY         49 

no  desire  to  encroach  on  his  slender  means,  and  I 
had  sufficient  pride  to  wish  to  keep  myself,  without 
being  a  burthen  to  anyone.  I  can  conscientiously 
suv  that  I  never  had  money-making  for  an  object; 
my  aim  and  ambition  have  always  been  to  make  the 
best  use  of  the  talents  God  entrusted  to  me.  I  dis- 
missed all  thought  of  future  provision:  I  trusted  in 
God  for  help,  and  I  did  not  trust  in  vain ! 

On  board  the  packet  I  scraped  acquaintance  witli 
a  young  Frenchman,  a  teacher  at  an  English  school, 
going  to  spend  a  holiday  in  his  native  place.  He 
accosted  me  in  French,  but  soon  found  that  I  had 
not  sufficient  knowledge  of  the  language  to  take 
part  even  in  an  ordinary  conversation ;  he  then  took 
pity  on  me  and  conversed  in  English.  I  owe  him  a 
great  debt  of  gratitude  for  his  ready  assistance  in 
passing  my  baggage  through  the  Custom  House,  and 
myself  through  the  formalities  incidental  to  the 
examination  and  countersigning  of  my  passport  — 
both  much  more  troublesome  then  than  at  the  pres- 
ent day. 

Immediately  after  our  arrival  at  Havre  we  were 
visited  by  an  official,  who  seemed  to  be  a  cross 
between  a  beadle  and  a  policeman.  He  wore  a 
cocked  hat,  and  carried  a  tall  stick,  and  looked  so 
severe  that  I  trembled,  lest,  finding  any  discrepancy 
between  my  features  and  their  description  in  my 
passport,  he  might  order  me  to  prison  or  back  to  my 
native  land.  My  amiable  companion  and  I  went  on 
shore  and  repaired  to  a  cafe*  on  the  quay,  where  we 


50  REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

had  coffee  and  hot  milk,  such  as  I  had  never  before 
tasted,  a  fine  crusty  loaf,  and  abundance  of  fresh 
butter,  served  in  the  open  air  by  a  jolly-looking  old 
woman  in  a  snow-white  Normandy  cap.  She  was 
such  a  dear-looking  old  soul,  and  was  so  attentive 
to  us,  I  would  willingly  have  had  a  little  conversa- 
tion with  her,  but,  for  obvious  reasons,  had  to  remain 
dumb.  What  I  failed  to  express  in  language  I  made 
up  for  in  smiles  and  attention  to  the  good  things 
with  which  she  supplied  us.  We  then  repaired  to 
be  examined  at  the  passport-office  and  claim  our 
passports,  which  occupied  a  considerable  amount  of 
time;  we  saw  our  baggage  registered  and  properly 
bestowed,  and  then  my  companion  suggested  it  was 
time  for  breakfast.  I  thought  we  had  breakfasted, 
but  I  learned  that  a  cup  of  coffee  with  bread-and- 
butter  does  not  constitute  a  breakfast.  We,  there- 
fore, betook  ourselves  to  another  cafe,  of  a  better 
class,  in  the  town,  where  we  ordered  so  sumptuous 
a  repast  that  I  began  to  fear  I  should  have  to  dispose 
of  the  whole  of  the  money  I  had  reserved  for  my 
journey  almost  before  I  was  well  on  my  way.  We 
had  oysters!  cutlets  with  vegetables!  salad!  cheese 
and  dessert!  a  bottle  of  wane  each,  and  a  cup  of 
black  coffee !  —  a  Lucullian  feast  to  me,  who  had 
never  been  accustomed  to  anything  more  than  an 
occasional  egg  as  an  addition  to  my  coffee  and  bread- 
and-butter;  and,  if  I  remember  rightly,  the  meal 
cost  two  and  a  half  francs  each,  including  the 
waiter's  tip. 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SAXTLEY          51 

The  journey  through  Normandy  is  very  pivtty. 
and  I  enjo}*ed  it  much.  Rouen  passed,  I  grew 
drowsy  after  the  night-travelling,  to  which  I  was 
not  accustomed.  At  the  railway-station  in  Paris  I 
took  leave  of  my  good-natured  acquaintance,  and 
crossed  the  street  to  the  small  hotel  to  which  I  had 
been  recommended;  it  was  chiefly  occupied  by  Eng- 
lish mechanics  and  warehousemen  in  charge  of 
machinery  and  goods  on  view  at  the  Exhibition.  I 
was  shown  to  a  small  room  without  a  carpet,  and  a 
miserable  little  den  it  appeared  to  me.  A  small 
bed,  with  the  smallest  allowance  of  bed-clothes  pos- 
sible, a  stand,  on  which  were  a  cream-jug  full  of 
water  placed  in  a  large  saucer,  one  little  towel  about 
the  size  of  a  decent  pockethandkerchief,  no  soap,  a 
looking-glass  that  made  my  face  appear  longer  than 
even  the  review  of  my  dormitory,  and  a  chair,  were 
all  it  contained.  I  felt  that  life  was  beginning  in 
earnest,  and  at  a  very  rough  end;  but  a  little 
thought  on  what  might  be  before  me  dispelled  the 
gloom  I  felt  gathering  round  my  spirits,  and  I 
descended  to  the  dining-room.  After  a  good  plain 
dinner  and  a  glass  (not  a  bottle  this  time!)  of  wine, 
determined  not  to  waste  time,  I  started  off,  intend- 
ing to  go  to  the  Italian  Opera,  but  I  missed  my 
way,  and,  as  I  found  it  difficult  to  ask  it  of  the 
passers-by,  and  impossible  to  understand  the  direc- 
tions they  who  condescended  to  listen  to  me  favoured 
me  with,  I  abandoned  the  idea.  I  turned  a  corner 
to  retrace  my  steps  to  my  lodging,  and  found  myself 


52  REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  S A  NT  LEY 

in  front  of  a  large  establishment  brilliantly  lighted, 
which  I  knew  must  be  a  theatre.  I  was  in  hopes  it 
was  the  one  I  sought,  but  it  turned  out  to  be  the 
Ope'ra  Comique.  I  had  never  heard  of  the  opera 
announced  for  that  evening's  performance ;  however, 
I  entered  the  vestibule,  paid  for  a  place,  and,  after 
ascending  three  flights  of  stairs,  was  shown  into  a 
seat  at  the  back  of  a  little  stuffy  box.  The  atmos- 
phere was  overpoweringly  hot,  and  the  theatre  was 
very  bad  for  sound.  The  voices  of  the  singers  were 
often  inaudible  where  I  was  perched;  there  was  a 
great  deal  of  dialogue,  of  which  I  could  not  make 
out  a  single  word,  so,  having  nothing  to  arouse  my 
interest,  I  fell  asleep,  and  only  woke  as  the  curtain 
was  descending.  I  hurried  out  into  the  fresh  air. 
I  had  lost  all  idea  of  my  latitude  and  longitude ;  I 
tried  first  one  street  and  then  another.  I  made 
inquiries  which  no  doubt  were  difficult  to  under- 
stand; received  replies  which  I  did  not  understand 
at  all,  but  only  made  confusion  worse  confounded. 
I  had  just  made  up  my  mind  to  pass  the  night  with 
the  stars  for  my  coverlet,  when  I  found,  to  my  inex- 
pressible delight,  I  was  at  the  foot  of  the  Rue 
d'Amsterdam,  where  my  hotel  was  situated.  The 
landlord  had  kindly  waited  up  for  me,  and,  of  course 
enjoyed  the  relation  of  my  evening's  adventures 
much  more  than  I  had  the  reality.  I  went  off  to 
bed,  packed  my  overcoat  and  all  my  available  cloth- 
ing on  the  bed  to  make  up  for  the  want  of  blankets, 
popped  in  under  them,  and  Avas  in  the  arms  of 
Morpheus  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye. 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY          53 

The  next  day  I  sallied  forth  to  call  at  the  English 
Embassy,  to  have  my  passport  vise*d.  I  asked  for 
the  Ambassador  —  I  believe.  Lord  Lyons  —  and  was 
ushered  into  his  presence.  He  received  me  very 
affably,  probably  taking  me  for  somebody  connected 
with  the  Exhibition;  but  when  he  learned  my  busi- 
ness, dismissed  me  promptly,  although  very  politely. 
I  was  referred  to  a  clerk,  who  told  me  that  all  that 
was  necessary  had  been  added  to  my  passport;  but 
I  had  such  a  dread  of  being  made  prisoner  on  my 
journey,  that  I  insisted  on  something  further  being 
done.  He  smiled,  told  me  to  leave  my  passport  and 
call  in  a  couple  of  days  for  it,  and  he  would  see  that 
it  was  all  in  order.  I  called,  and  received  it  with 
the  stamp  of  the  Embassy  added,  for  which  I  paid 
three  francs.  I  filled  up  my  time  with  a  visit  to  the 
Exhibition,  which  had  the  same  depressing  effect 
upon  me  as  that  of  1851  and  all  others  I  have  visited 
since.  I  noticed  Verdi's  opera,  the  "Yepres  Sici- 
liennes,"  was  announced  for  Wednesday,  with  Sophie 
Cruvelli  in  the  cast,  and  I  could  not  resist  the  temp- 
tation of  staying  one  day  more  in  order  to  have 
another  opportunity  of  hearing  the  goddess  who  had 
enchanted  me  a  couple  of  years  before.  I  knew 
nothing  about  the  distribution  of  places,  and  took 
what  was  offered  me  in  exchange  for  my"  mone}*,  in 
consequence  found  myself  with  the  crown  of  my 
head  almost  touching  the  ceiling,  planted  behind  a 
row  of  people  who,  with  that  French  politeness  of 
which  I  have  often  heard,  but  seldom  experienced,1 
1  I  speak  of  Paris. 


54  REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

would  insist  upon  standing,  and  entirely  obstructing 
any  view  of  the  stage.  Spite  of  the  discomfort,  I 
enjoyed  the  performance.  Obin,  the  bass,  especially 
pleased  me;  I  was  somewhat  disenchanted  by  my 
goddess ;  the  tenor  I  did  not  like ;  and  the  baritone, 
Bonnehee,  I  liked  very  much,  only,  as  he  did  not  go 
down  to  F,  or  anywhere  near  it,  I  did  not  take  the 
interest  in  him  I  would  have  done  a  few  years  later, 
when  I  had  learned  to  distinguish  between  bass  and 
baritone. 

On  Thursday  evening  I  left  Paris  for  Basle.  The 
route  then  lay  through  Strasbourg,  and  a  very  tedious 
journey  I  found  it,  in  a  slow  train,  seated  for  twenty- 
two  hours  in  a  third-class  carriage,  with  only  a 
folded  shawl  for  a  cushion,  and  with  travelling 
companions  who  had  never  acquired  a  taste  for  soap 
and  water,  grimy  soldiers,  who  made  the  compart- 
ment reek  with  the  smoke  of  vile  tobacco  ejected 
from  filthy  pipes,  restless  children,  and  other  minor 
eccentricities.  At  6  p.m.  on  Friday  I  reached  Basle, 
and,  after  a  hasty  dinner,  left  for  Lucerne.  The 
railway  was  in  course  of  construction,  but  was  open 
for  a  very  short  distance ;  nearly  the  whole  of  the 
journey  was  in  consequence  performed  by  diligence. 
I  had  taken  my  place  at  the  last  moment,  and  found 
I  had  to  ride  outside.  The  night  was  intensely 
cold,  and  when  we  arrived  at  Lucerne,  between  four 
and  five  in  the  morning,  my  legs  were  so  benumbed, 
I  could  not  stand  for  some  minutes;  my  gums  were 
swollen,  and  my  throat  ached,  and  I  began  to  fear 


XE.lfLYISCENCES   OF  CIIAXLES  SANTLEY          55 

there  was  a  probability  of  my  having  made  my  jour- 
ney for  nothing.  However,  I  walked  briskly  about, 
and  in  a  short  time  found  that  my  ''bottom  G ''  was 
still  safe  and  sound,  and  my  fears  vanished. 

The  journey  over  the  St.  Got  hard  was  much  more 
interesting  in  1855  than  it  is  now,  spite  of  the  expe- 
dition with  which  it  is  accomplished  and  the  marvels 
of  engineering  employed  in  its  accomplishment.  I 
] lapsed  over  on  the  2nd  November;  a  great  deal  of 
snow  had  already  fallen,  and  men  were  constantly 
employed  clearing  the  carriage-road  beyond  Ander- 
matt.  At  Amsteg  the  snow  was  fairly  deep,  but 
not  sufficiently  to  prevent  the  use  of  wheeled  vehi- 
cles. I  walked  a  great  part  of  the  way  from  Amsteg 
to  Andermatt,  where  we  dined.  When  I  returned 
to  take  my  place  in  the  diligence  I  found  in  its 
stead  a  number  of  small  sledges  like  children's 
go-carts,  each  capable  of  carrying  two  persons  face 
to  face,  drawn  by  one  horse,  with  a  man  to  guide 
the  machine.  It  began  to  snow  afresh,  and  soon 
grew  dark.  We  were  requested  to  keep  the  weight 
of  our  bodies  directed  towards  the  side  opposed  to 
the  declivity,  in  order  to  avoid  the  possibility  of  an 
upset  into  the  deep  snow,  from  which  rescue  would 
have  been  difficult  if  not  impossible.  I  felt  the  cold 
penetrating  to  my  bones.  I  was  not  provided  with 
wraps ;  I  had  only  an  ordinary  overcoat,  and  my 
clothes  were  not  of  the  thickest  material ;  but  I  was 
exhilarated  with  the  mountain-air  and  the  novelty 
of  the  drive,  and  took  little  notice  of  the  cold  until 


56  REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

we  halted  at  Airolo,  and  I  tried  to  straighten  my 
limbs.  The  William  Tell  who  guided  my  sledge 
came  to  levy  backsheesh  (no  need  to  go  so  far  as 
Egypt  to  learn  what  backsheesh  means),  in  this  case 
well-deserved,  for  a  more  tedious  piece  of  work  I 
can  scarcely  imagine.  The  horse,  harnessed  to  the 
sledge  with  ropes  and  without  reins,  was  left  to  his 
own  devices,  and  the  man,  sitting  on  the  front, 
guided  us  over  the  slippery,  uneven,  frozen  snow  by 
trailing  his  left  foot  along  the  ground  by  the  side  of 
it.  I  unintentionally  behaved  shabbily  to  the  poor 
fellows.  My  companion,  a  French  servant-man, 
with  true  French  polish,  gave  me  a  handful  of  small 
coins  in  exchange  for  a  five-franc  piece,  which  I 
afterwards  discovered  amounted  to  about  two-thirds 
of  its  value.  I  gave  one  of  the  pieces  to  the  driver, 
who  seemed  very  angry;  but  as  I  did  not  know  what 
it  was  worth  I  refused  to  give  him  more.  Some 
time  after  I  learned  the  value  of  Swiss  coins,  and  I 
then  found  I  had  presented  him  with  a  piece  worth 
five  centimes.  I  have  often  remembered  my  mean- 
ness with  remorse  when  I  have  been  treated  with 
contempt  by  some  embryo  Arnold  Unterwalten  or 
Walter  Flirst,  because  I  did  not  reward  him  with 
half  a  franc  for  merely  pointing  out  a  road. 

At  Bellinzona  I  nearl}*  parted  company  with  all 
my  worldly  goods;  I  made  my  appearance  at  t In- 
door of  the  hotel  wrhere  we  stopped  to  change 
horses  just  in  time  to  prevent  my  portmanteau  being 
carried  to  some  place  in  a  direction  opposed  to  that 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY          57 

in  which  I  was  journeying.  It  was  broad  daylight 
when  we  arrived  at  Lugano;  a  bright  sunshiny 
morning,  such  as  we  occasionally  enjoy  in  May  in 
our  native  island.  The  discomfort  of  a  sleepless 
night  in  a  diligence  was  forgotten  in  a  moment;  I 
began  to  sniff  the  southern  breeze,  and  felt  so  happy 
I  could  have  hugged  myself  with  delight.  We 
arrived  at  Camerlata  too  late  to  catch  the  early  after- 
noon train,  and,  as  we  had  to  \vait  for  another  until 
six  p.m.,  I  stepped  over  to  the  Station  Hotel,  and 
ate  my  first  dinner  in  Italy.  I  do  not  know  what 
it  consisted  of,  I  took  whatever  the  waiter  seemed  to 
think  good  for  me.  I  found  it  excellent;  but  not 
having  partaken  of  a  proper  meal  since  I  left  Ander- 
matt,  my  appetite  was  so  keen  I  should  have  enjoyed 
it  had  it  been  a  much  more  ordinary  specimen  of 
culinary  art. 

At  about  nine  p.m.,  on  Sunday,  November  4th, 
1855,  on  the  feast  of  my  patron  saint,  "San  Carlo 
Borromeo/'  I  found  myself  at  last  within  the  gates 
of  the  city  of  Milan. 

As  I  was  approaching  the  end  of  my  journey  I 
could  not  but  feel  somewhat  ashamed  of  my  poor 
attempt  at  speaking  French,  and  determined,  if  pos- 
sible, to  prepare  myself,  that  I  might  make  a  better 
show  in  Italian,  to  which  end  I  arranged  in  my  mind 
a  series  of  phrases  which  I  deemed  would  be  neces- 
sary and  useful  on  the  arrival  of  the  train.  What 
confusion !  Such  a  clatter  of  tongues !  That  of 
Babel  must  have  been  a  fool  to  it!  Rival  porters, 


58  REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

struggling  for  a  job,  literally  yelled  at  each  other; 
passengers  calling  down  the  choicest  blessings  or 
otherwise  on  the  heads  of  officious  porters  carrying 
off  their  bags  and  wraps  without  orders ;  and  cab- 
men wrangling  over  disputed  fares.  I  was  almost 
stunned,  and  the  first  question  propounded  to  me 
finished  me  off.  "  Gospel  -voeur  lu?"  What  lan- 
guage on  earth  could  that  be  ?  For  a  few  moments 
I  fancied  I  had  got  in  the  wrong  train  and  been 
transported  to  the  wrong  country.  I  replied  with  a 
vacant  stare  at  the  individual  who  addressed  me. 
Supposing,  probably,  I  had  not  heard  the  question, 
he  repeated  it  with  additions  and  variations.  All 
my  beautifully  arranged  phrases  had  evaporated.  I 
threw  up  the  sponge  and  gave  myself  up  captive, 
trusting  to  his  tender  mercy.  He  guessed  I  was  a 
foreigner,  I  presume,  and,  as  he  found  speech  use- 
less, availed  himself  of  pantomime. 

The  confusion  abated  as  the  crowd  dispersed,  and 
I  managed  to  gather  my  wits  and  make  him  under- 
stand I  wanted  my  portmanteau  and  a  cab  to  convey 
me  and  it  to  my  hotel.  The  former  was  easily 
found,  and  instead  of  a  cab  he  hired  a  boy  with  a 
barrow  to  convey  my  portmanteau,  whilst  I  walked. 
The  railway-station  lies  outside  the  gates  of  the 
city;  on  attempting  to  pass  through  an  official 
ordered  my  baggage  to  be  dismounted,  and  as  he 
could  not  make  me  understand  in  words  what  he 
desired,  made  signs  for  me  to  open  it,  which  I  was 
proceeding  to  do,  when  the  boy  offered  some  expla- 


REMINISCENCES    OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY          59 

nation,  which  the  official  replied  to  with  a  shrug  of 
the  shoulders  and  a  sign  for  us  to  clear  out,  which 
we  did,  and  I  could  not  help  wondering  if  it  would 
he  as  difficult  to  get  out  of  Milan  as  it  was  to  get  in. 

It  was  dark,  and  as  almost  all  the  streets  were 
lighted  by  oil-lamps  I  could  not  satisfy  my  curiosity 
respecting  the  appearance  of  the  city.  We  pas.-i-d 
by  the  cathedral,  so  close  that  its  great  size  was  not 
apparent,  and  being  in  doubt,  after  a  few  moments' 
hesitation,  I  asked  my  guide,  "  E  questa  la  cate- 
drale?"  He  looked  at  me  as  though  he  thought  he 
had  a  lunatic  in  charge,  and,  with  a  contemptuous 
grin,  replied,  "  Ques"1  clii  le  <l  <l<:»nn> .'"  I  « aught 
the  sound  of  the  words,  but  I  did  not  comprehend 
the  poetic  beauty  of  his  reply  until  I  had  made  some 
advance  in  the  acquisition  of  the  Milanese  dialect. 

At  the  Gran  Bretagna.  where  I  put  up  (and  an 
exceedingly  good  hotel  it  was),  to  my  great  joy  I 
was  able  to  let  my  tongue  loose,  after  being  tied  up 
for  a  whole  wreek.  I  found  a  commissionaire  who 
spoke  English,  not  very  fluently,  but  sufficiently 
well  to  satisfy  my  cravings.  I  made  arrangements 
with  him  to  conduct  me  to  the  police  office,  to  claim 
my  passport  which  was  retained  at  the  frontier, 
where  I  had  been  examined  carefully,  and  made 
declaration  of  my  profession,  object  of  visiting 
Milan,  etc. ;  then  to  pay  a  visit  to  one  of  the 
masters  recommended  to  me  by  Sims  Reeves,  and 
arrange  about  my  lessons,  for  I  was  anxious  to  be  at 
work  without  loss  of  time.  After  I  had  partaken 


60  REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

of  some  slight  refreshment,  I  retired  for  the  night. 
I  opened  my  portmanteau  to  make  sure  all  my  pos- 
sessions were  safe,  and  found  on  the  top  of  my  linen 
a  Prayer-book  which  my  mother  had  placed  there 
after  packing  my  clothes,  together  with  her  portrait. 
I  felt  so  lonely;  I  sat  down  on  my  bedside  and 
indulged  in  a  good  cry,  after  which  I  felt  more 
hopeful!  I  was  not  sorry  to  divest  myself  of  my 
garments,  which  I  had  worn  since  Thursday  morn- 
ing, and  enjoy  the  luxury  of  a  bed,  after  three 
nights  spent  on  the  road.  Nothing  very  arduous; 
but,  remember,  I  had  not  travelled  much,  and  never 
by  night,  and  I  had  been  cared  for  in  my  home  by 
the  most  careful  of  mothers. 

I  never  indulge  in  a  grumble  about  the  discom- 
forts and  annoyances  of  travelling  without  reflecting 
upon  what  they  must  have  been  in  those  times  when 
mail-clad  knights  with  their  followers  travelled  from 
the  West  of  Europe  to  the  Holy  Land,  on  horseback 
or  afoot,  through  unexplored  regions,  uncleared 
forests  and  sandy  deserts,  among  hostile  people,  and 
deprived  of  most  of  the  necessaries  which  make  life 
bearable,  and  almost  if  not  entirely  of  its  luxuries. 
Or,  again,  when  Columbus  started  with  his  company 
in  open  vessels  of  small  tonnage,  and  in  such  bad 
repair  that  the  water  trickled  through  the  open 
seams  between  the  planks;  horses  dividing  the 
limited  space  with  men ;  exposed  to  drenching  rain, 
freezing  cold  and  fier}T  heat;  driven  beyond  the 
power  of  guidance  by  raging  storm,  or  immovable 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SAXTLEY         61 

in  a  sea  of  glass  under  a  burning  sun,  without  a 
breath  of  air  to  stir  the  canvas.  When  I  do  this  I 
cannot  help  contrasting  the  earnestness  of  those 
men,  who  underwent  dangers  and  privations  for  the 
glory  of  God  and  the  good  of  their  fellow-men,  with 
our  impatience  in  these  times,  when,  provided  with 
luxurious  coaches,  furnished  with  lavatories  and 
dining-rooms,  where  we  can  partake  of  an  excellent 
dinner,  and  retire  afterwards  to  the  smoking-saloon 
and  dispose  our  minds  for  contemplation  with  a  cigar 
or  pipe  and  cup  of  coffee,  we  arrive  at  our  destina- 
tion washed,  combed,  and  all  in  trim  order  a  few 
minutes  later  than  the  advertised  time  for  the  arrival 
of  the  train,  and  all  because  we  have  missed  a  bar- 
gain; or  with  the  bobbery  we  raise  and  the  letters 
we  write  to  the  Times  if  we  are  called  up  in  the 
middle  of  the  night  for  half  an  hour  to  undergo 
a  custom-house  examination  on  an  excursion  of 
pleasure. 

I  know  women,  and  some  men,  whom  a  journey 
of  four  hours  by  coach  or  rail  overwhelms  with 
fatigue  and  exhaustion,  although  provided  with  sus- 
tt'ii  nice  in  the  shape  of  cold  chicken  and  sandwiches, 
and  a  pocket-flask  of  strong  waters;  whilst  their 
ancestors,  male  and  female,  thought  nothing  of  a 
ride  on  horseback  from  London  to  Edinburgh,  or  vice 
>••'/•*<?,  except  to  make  their  wills  before  starting  in 
CUM'  they  were  murdered  by  highwaymen  on  the  road. 

How  the  world  progresses !  Towards  what  ?  Not 
earnestness,  certainly ! 


CHAPTER   V 

My  Lodgings  —  Milan  under  Austrian  Rule:  Vexatious  Restric- 
tions—  A  Humorous  Episode:  Pollini,  Capponi  and  Galli  — 
A  Trying  Interview  with  the  Police  —  A  Lucky  Letter — My 
Interview  with  Lamperti  —  Introduction  to  Xava  —  Xava's  An- 
tecedents —  His  Wide  Culture  and  Kindly  Nature,  and  Honest 
Advice  —  Singing  v.  Gabbling  —  Duets  with  Konconi  and  Belletti 

—  Xava's  Views  on  Progress  —  His  Kindly  Interference —Hal- 
cyon Days  —  My  Lessons  with  Xava:  Conversation  as  well  as 
Singing  —  His  Family  —  The  Dialects  of  Lombardy  —  Locomo- 
tion as  an  Aid  to  Study  —  My  Daily  Walk — Milanese  Soldiery 

—  Performances  at  the  Cannobiana —  Ginglini  as  a  Singer  and 
Actor  —  Marini   and    Delle  Sedie  —  The   Scala   Orchestra  — 
Ristori. 

MY  first  object  was  to  hire  a  modest  apartment. 
The  proprietor  of  the  hotel  offered  to  let  me  a  room 
at  a  very  moderate  rent,  which  I  would  have  ac- 
cepted; but  I  wished  to  make  my  little  capital  last 
as  long  as  possible,  and  I  feared  it  would  not  lu-ar 
the  expense  of  hotel  living.  The  commissionaire 
then  informed  me  that  his  wife's  sister,  a  widow, 
wished  to  let  her  rooms.  I  went  to  inspect  them, 
found  them  satisfactory,  and  the  rent  being  low- 
twenty  zwanzigers  a  month,  a  zwanziger  being  worth 
about  eightpence  farthing  —  I  took  them,  and  had 
my  baggage  removed,  and  installed  myself  the  same 
day.  T  then  paid  a  visit  to  Ulrich  and  Brot, 
62 


REM/.\'/SCEXCES    OF  C/fAKLES   SAXTLF.Y          63 

bankers,  on  whom  I  had  a  draft  for  ,£35,  which  they 
kindlv  allowed  me  to  leave  in  their  hands  and  draw 
out  in  such  sums  as  I  might  require. 

My  guide  then  conducted  me  to  the  police  office 
to  have  my  name  and  address  registered,  and  receive 
a  [taper  called  a  Carta  di  Sicurezza  in  exchange  for 
my  passport,  which  they  retained  until  I  should  be 
leaving  the  city. 

In  1855  Milan,  under  Austrian  rule,  was  sub- 
ject to  surveillance  so  strict  that  the  haunts,  busi- 
ness, etc..  of  every  inhabitant  and  visitor  were 
known  to  the  police.  A  foreign  officer,  during  his 
stay  in  the  city,  was  accompanied  wherever  he  went 
by  a  private  soldier,  who  also  mounted  guard  at  the 
door  of  his  hotel  or  lodging,  or  of  any  house  at 
which  lie  might  be  paying  a  visit;  spies  obtruded 
themselves  on  the  frequenters  of  the  cafes,  and 
joined  in  their  conversation;  and  I  was  solemnly 
cautioned  against  discussing  politics,  wherever  or 
with  whomsoever  I  might  be  in  company.  I  little 
needed  such  a  warning,  as  I  never  took  sufficient 
interest  in  politics  to  care  or  be  able  to  take  part  in 
their  discussion.  The  city  was  full  of  military, 
with  whom  very  few  of  the  Milanese  would  mix, 
and  those  few  were  invariably  treated  with  the  cold 
shoulder  by  their  fellow-citizens.  There  was  a  cafc; 
at  the  cornel'  of  a  block  of  buildings,  demolished 
some  years  ago  to  enlarge  the  Piazza  del  Duomo,  to 
which  the  Austrian  officers  resorted,  which  no 
Milanese  would  enter. 


64  REMINISCENCES    OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

A  propos  of  police  interference  a  ludicrous  inci- 
dent occurred  one  night  at  the  Albergo  del  Pozzo, 
where  some  students  from  the  Conservatoire  were 
supping  and  making  merry.  As  the  wine  warmed 
their  blood  the  merriment  became  somewhat  boister- 
ous. The  sergeant  of  the  patrol,  hearing  the  noise, 
stepped  in  and  requested  to  be  shown  into  the  room 
from  whence  the  sounds  of  revelry  proceeded,  where 
he  demanded  the  names  of  those  present  one  by  one : 
"Your  name?"  "Pollini"  (in  Milan  they  call  a 
turkey  pollino).  "  Yours  ?  "  "  Capponi  "  (capons). 
Here  the  sergeant  began  to  look  black.  "And 
yours,  sir?"  "Galli"  (roosters).  Here  he  could 
contain  himself  no  longer.  "Come!"  said  he,  "the 
police  are  not  to  be  trifled  with;  you  will  accom- 
pany me  to  the  police  office."  The  landlord  Mas 
then  called,  and  gave  testimony  to  the  fact  of  the 
names  being  correct;  the  sergeant  bade  them  con- 
tinue their  revels  in  a  lower  key,  and  departed  with 
a  surly  grunt.  I  knew  all  three.  Pollini  became  a 
"Maestro  concertatore  "  at  the  Scala;  Capponi  fre- 
quenters of  the  Italian  opera  will  remember  as  a 
very  good  bass  for  some  years;  Galli  I  lost  sight  of, 
and  do  not  know  where  he  went  to  roost. 

On  giving  my  name,  an  official  produced  my  pass- 
port and  proceeded  to  question  me  through  my  inter- 
preter. First  of  all  he  asked  me  where  I  was  going 
to  sing?  At  the  frontier  I  had  stated  I  was  by 
profession  a  singer.  I  replied  I  did  not  know;  I 
had  made  no  engagement,  as  I  intended  to  study 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY         65 

first.  He  then  informed  me  I  had  not  described 
in vs elf  properly ;  I  was  a  student,  not  a  singer,  and 
could  not  therefore  remain  in  Milan,  and  must  take 
my  departure  within  twenty-four  hours,  unless  I 
could  find  a  citizen  of  standing  who  could  certify  I 
\\as  a  student.  Well,  I  thought,  now  for  certain  it 
is  all  over  with  me.  and  was  much  annoyed  to  think 
that  all  my  arrangements  were  to  be  upset  by  such 
a  ridiculous  quibble.  I  did  not  know  a  single  soul 
in  Milan;  how  was  I  to  procure  a  certificate?  The 
commissionaire  asked  me  if  I  had  not  brought  anv 
letters  of  introduction.  I  told  him  I  had  one,  but 
knew  nothing  of  the  person  to  whom  it  was  ad- 
dressed. I  had  left  it  in  my  bag  at  home,  whither 
we  bent  our  steps  immediately  —  my  guide  very 
hopeful,  and  I  very  crestfallen.  I  took  out  the 
letter,  and  was  so  enraged  I  literally  chucked  it  at 
him.  He  opened  it,  and  exclaimed,  "The  very 
thing!  This  is  a  letter  to  Eugenio  Cavallini,  the 
conductor  at  the  Scala,  from  his  brother  Pompeo," 
then  a  bandmaster  at  Plymouth.  I  forgot  all  about 
the  police,  and  saw  myself  on  the  instant  figuring  in 
some  important  part  on  the  stage  of  the  august 
temple  of  Apollo.  I  need  scarcely  add  that  Austria, 
through  the  police  official,  took  me  to  her  bosom  and 
accepted  me  as  a  dependent  pro  tern,  on  the  spot. 

The  next  thing  my  guide  insisted  upon  was  that 
I  should  pay  a  visit  to  the  tomb  of  San  Carlo 
Rorromeo.  as,  during  the  fourteen  clays  succeeding 
his  feast-day  it  is  shown  gratis,  whilst  during  the 


66  REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

remainder  of  the  year  a  fee  of  three  or  five  francs  is 
expected. 

The  day  following  I  had  an  appointment  with 
Lamperti,  Catherine  Hayes'  master,  and  one  of 
those  recommended  to  me  by  Sims  Reeves.  As  he 
could  not  speak  English,  and  very  little  French,  the 
commissionaire  again  accompanied  me  to  act  as 
interpreter.  We  were  shown  into  a  room  where  the 
professor  was  giving  a  lesson  to  a  somewhat  vulgar- 
looking  woman,  who  emitted  the  most  agonizing 
shrieks,  I  thought.  I  also  thought  if  that  were  Mr. 
Lamperti 's  method  of  teaching,  I  would  not  trouble 
him  for  his  instruction.  However,  I  bethought  my- 
self of  Kate's  delicate  singing,  and  I  concluded  the 
pupil  has  as  much  to  do  with  the  result  of  teaching 
as  the  master.  I  was  spared  the  trouble  of  deciding, 
for  after  hearing  me,  and  turning  up  his  nose  a 
trifle  —  so  I  imagined  —  he  informed  me  that  his 
time  was  fully  occupied  just  then;  but  if  I  could 
call  again  in  a  fortnight,  he  probably  would  be  able 
to  spare  me  an  hour.  I  did  not  return,  and  have 
always  been  glad  I  did  not;  he  was  an  excellent 
master,  but  not  one  to  suit  my  temperament. 

My  guide  then  confided  to  me  he  had  a  nephew 
who  was  an  excellent  singing-master  —  he  always 
had  a  relative  ready.  I  engaged  him,  but  after  a 
few  experiences  found  he  knew  nothing  about  sing- 
ing, so  I  paid  and  dismissed  him.  He  was  perfectly 
contented,  and  invited  me  to  dine  with  him  and  his 
wife,  and  the  commissionaire  and  his  wife,  when  he 


KEMLYISCE.VCES  OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY          67 

treated  me  to  a  sumptuous  repast  —  at  my  own 
expense.  I  had  engaged  an  Italian  master,  who, 
when  I  told  him  I  considered  Mr.  Rosa  (the  soi- 
disant  singing-master)  was  a  humbug,  informed  me 
he  was  well  acquainted  with  the  gentleman  :  that  he 
was  a  very  mediocre  fiddler,  and  never  had  tried  to 
teach  singing  before.  I  mentioned  to  him  that  1 
had  determined  upon  the  master  I  preferred,  and  at 
mv  request  he  made  an  appointment  with  and  intro- 
duced me  to  Gaetano  Xava. 

I  do  not  intend  to  insert  a  biography  of  my 
master,  I  will  merely  relate  what  I  personally  know 
of  him,  and  what  he  told  me  about  himself. 

His  grandfather  was  a  celebrated  professor  of  and 
brilliant  performer  011  the  guitar;  his  father  was  also 
an  accomplished  guitarist.  He  himself,  although 
not  a  heaven-born  genius,  was  possessed  of  refined 
taste  and  feeling  and  love  of  musie.  to  which  from 
childhood  he  devoted  himself.  His  leaning  was 
towards  the  vocal  branch,  but  as  he  was  not  gifted 
with  a  voice,  he  did  not  lieeome  a  practical  singer, 
lit-  had  the  advantage  which  the  youth  of  France 
and  Germany,  in  common  with  that  of  his  native 
country,  enjoyed,  of  hearing  the  best  musie  of  the 
time  executed  by  the  best  singers  and  players,  at  a 
trifling  cost.  While  still  under  twenty  years  of 
age,  he  was  engaged  at  the  Scala  and  other  theatres 
as  "Maestro  Concertatore  "  (the  professor  who  super- 
intends the  pianoforte  rehearsals),  and  learned  how 
such  singers  as  Pasta.  Malibran,  Grisi,  Pesaroni, 


68  REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

Rubini,  Donzelli,  Filippo  Galli,  Tamburini,  Luigi 
Lablache,  and  other  brilliant  artists,  although  stars 
of  inferior  magnitude,  by  dint  of  study  imbued  them- 
selves with  the  spirit  of  the  music  they  had  to  inter- 
pret, and  whose  beauties  they  had  to  develop. 

How  he  profited  by  this  experience  can  be  seen 
on  perusing  the  numerous  studies,  solfeggi,  etc.,  he 
wrote  for  every  voice. 

He  was  a  diligent  student  of  the  history  and 
theory  of  music,  as  may  be  gathered  from  his  num- 
erous annotations  to  many  works  upon  these  subjects, 
which,  together  with  masses  and  other  compositions 
in  MS.,  he  bequeathed  to  me,  and  are  still  in  my 
possession.  Moreover,  he  was  well  versed  in  Italian 
literature,  which  cannot  be  said  of  many  of  his  fellow 
professors. 

I  loved  him  as  a  master  for  the  pains  he  took, 
and  the  knowledge  he  displayed  in  my  instruc- 
tion, and  I  loved  him  still  more  as  a  man;  he  was  a 
kind  father  to  me  whilst  I  was  under  his  care,  and 
a  true  friend  to  me  as  long  as  he  lived.  My  sincere 
admiration  of  his  abilities  and  love  to  himself  do  not 
cause  me  to  think  it  impossible  that  there  have  been 
and  are  other  masters  quite  as  competent  as  he ;  but 
that  I  had  the  good  fortune  to  enjoy  his  friendship 
and  profit  by  his  tuition  is  one  of  the  many  boons 
for  which  I  thank  God.  We  were  united  in  sym- 
pathy, and  hence  he  found  no  difficulty  in  impart- 
ing, nor  I  in  comprehending,  his  instructions. 

I  hope  to  let  fall  hints  occasionally,  from  which 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY          69 

young  people  may  derive  advantage.  I  have,  how- 
ever, no  intention  of  obtruding  "a  method  of  sing- 
ing "  on  those  who  may  deem  it  worth  their  while  to 
read  these  memoirs ;  at  the  same  time,  a  few  of  my 
master's  remarks  made  during  "breathing  time" 
may  not  be  out  of  place. 

At  the  Conservatoire,  where,  during  the  time  I 
was  his  pupil,  he  was  master  of  the  girls'  singing- 
class,  he  was  obliged  to  teach  all  those  who  were 
accepted  as  pupils  by  the  directors;  privately,  he 
would  not  accept  as  a  pupil,  on  any  terms,  a  youth 
of  either  sex  with  whose  musical  disposition  he  was 
not  thoroughly  satisfied.  Often  he  dismissed  girls 
'with  advice  to  turn  their  attention  to  knitting  stock- 
ings or  other  domestic  works,  and  so  become  useful 
members  of  society,  instead  of  wasting  their  time  in 
the  study  of  an  art  for  which  they  had  neither  taste 
nor  aptitude,  and  of  which  the  small  smattering  they 
might  acquire,  instead  of  amusing,  would  only  dis- 
tress themselves  and  their  friends. 

He  insisted  that  the  object  of  music  was  to  give 
greater  expression  and  emphasis  to  the  words,  and 
for  this  reason  never  allowed  a  syllable  to  be  neg- 
lected. "I  must  hear  what  you  are  singing  about," 
he  would  say,  "  or  I  cannot  tell  how  you  are  singing, 
and,  consequently,  cannot  help  you !"  When  I  had 
mastered  Italian  sufficiently,  he  made  me  learn  the 
buffo  parts  in  Rossini's  comic  operas,  "La  Cene- 
rentola,"  "L'ltaliana  in  Algeria,"  "II  Turco  in 
Italia,"  etc.,  and  also  in  Mercadante's  operas  and 


70  REMINISCENCES    OF   CHARLES  SAXTLEY 

those  of  other  composers  whose  names  I  cannot  now 
call  to  mind.  lie  made  me  siny  them,  not  gabble 
them,  as  I  have  heard  many  Italian  buffos  do;  he 
said,  "Luigi  Lablache  and  Luigi  Galli  (brother  of 
Filippo,  for  whom  many  celebrated  buffo  parts  were 
written)  never  gabbled;  they  sang,  and  they  were 
grand  artists,  who  ought  to  be  taken  as  models  by 
all  students  who  are  striving  after  perfection."  To 
this  study  I  owe  the  clear  pronunciation  which  I 
believe  is  one  of  my  good  qualities.  During  the 
first  years  after  my  return  to  England  I  used  often 
to  sing  buffo  duets  with  Giorgio  Ilonconi  and 
Belletti,  and  many  an  unexpressed  challenge  I  have 
accepted  and  deadly  combat  fought  in  the  arena  of 
words.  At  one  of  Charley's  parties  Belletti  and  I 
sang  the  duet  "Che  1'antipatica  vostra  figura,"  from 
Ricci's  opera,  "La  Chiara  di  Rosemberg"  (on  the 
same  subject  as  Balfe's  "Siege  of  Rochelle  ")  after 
some  long  instrumental  pieces,  of  which,  spite  of 
their  classical  propensities,  English  fashionable 
audiences  do  grow  weary  sometimes.  Virginia 
Gabriel  accompanied.  In  the  last  movement  Bel- 
letti, thinking  it  about  time  to  rouse  the  slumber- 
ing enthusiasts  from  their  lethargy,  started  off  at  a 
headlong  pace.  I  girded  up  my  loins  and  followed 
him,  and  we  bore  Miss  Gabriel  along  between  us  at 
such  a  rate  she  could  scarcely  see  the  notes.  Fortu- 
nately, she  was  an  excellent  reader,  and  well-versed 
in  Italian  music,  and  we  landed  at  the  end  all  safe 
and  sound,  when,  amidst  the  deafening  applause  and 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY          71 

hearty  congratulations  of  the  now  wide-awake  clas- 
sicals,  we  congratulated  each  other  on  having  come 
in  with  unbroken  necks. 

Incidentally,  I  may  remark  that  women,  who  are 
generally  supposed  to  be  faster  talkers  than  men, 
seldom  acquire  the  facility  of  men  in  uttering 
"word  and  note";  at  least,  such  has  been  my  per- 
sonal experience. 

One  of  the  best  lessons  Nava  ever  gave  me  was 
on  progress.  I  had  received  (about  July,  1856,  I 
think)  a  very  serious  letter  from  my  father  in  reply 
to  an  application  for  assistance,  in  which  he  said 
that,  after  my  remarks  upon  the  singers  I  had  heard 
at  the  Scala,  he  had  hoped  that  by  that  time  I  would 
have  made  my  appearance  there ;  that  he  clearly  saw 
we  had  made  a  mistake,  and  I  had  better  return 
home.  He  would  send  me  money  for  that  purpose, 
but  not  to  enable  me  to  remain ;  as  regarded  what  he 
had  already  lent  me,  no  doubt  I  could  soon  obtain  a 
situation,  and  refund  it.  I  felt  much  cast  down ;  I 
had  worked  hard,  and  was  making  progress  rapidly, 
both  in  singing  and  the  language.  I  went  to  my 
lesson  ;  Nava  saw  I  was  out  of  spirits,  and  asked  me 
the  cause.  I  told  him  what  my  father  had  written, 
whereupon  he  said,  "Your  father  is  in  too  great  a 
hurry!  Progress  is  not  made  at  the  rapid  rate  he 
evidently  expects ;  it  must  be  made  step  by  step  to 
make  it  secure;  you  cannot  judge  of  progress  from 
day  to  day,  or  from  month  to  month;  work  steadily, 
and  at  the  end  of  six  months  compare  what  you  can 


72          REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

do  then  with  what  you  could  do  at  the  beginning, 
then  you  can  estimate  the  advancement  you  have 
made.  There  must  be  time  to  receive  instruction, 
and  time  to  digest  the  instruction  received.  We 
see  young  people  after  a  few  weeks'  exercise  of  the 
voice,  set  to  cram  a  few  parts  (in  operas),  and  in  a 
few  months  from  their  leaving  some  other  occupa- 
tion, thrust  upon  the  stage.  The  consequence  is, 
that  the  strain  on  the  imperfectly-trained  voice 
impairs  its  quality  and  strength  in  a  short  time 
beyond  the  power  of  any  master  to  remedy.  I  am 
perfectly  satisfied  with  the  progress  you  have  made, 
and  am  also  perfectly  satisfied  that,  the  necessary 
time  being  allowed  you  to  make  sure  of  every  step 
you  take,  your  father,  too,  will  be  fully  satisfied 
with  the  result." 

It  is  a  lesson  which  may  be  equally  well  applied 
to  any  other  study,  I  take  it.  The  painter's  per- 
spective, colour,  grouping;  the  surgeon's  anatomy; 
the  sailor's  ropes  and  sails;  the  soldier's'  gun, 
sword,  and  bayonet  exercises,  and  so  on  throughout 
the  range  of  human  occupation,  are  no  other  than 
scales  and  solfeggi  in  another  form  —  the  foundation, 
whicli  must  be  formed  of  solid  materials  firmly  and 
carefully  welded  if  the  student's  ambition  is  to 
become  a  "tower  of  strength,"  capable  of  defying  the 
storms  of  jealous  rivalry,  which  are  sure  to  assail 
him,  and  a  place  of  refuge  for  those  who  require 
protection  and  help. 

Nava  wrote  a  kind  and  sensible  letter,  placing  his 


REMINISCENCES    OF   CHARLES   SANTLEY          73 

views  before  my  father,  with  the  result  that,  fortu- 
nately for  me,  the  necessary  funds  to  prosecute  my 
studies  were  forthcoming. 

Besides  the  affection  of  my  master,  I  had  the  good 
fortune  in  a  short  time  to  win  that  of  his  family; 
so  much  were  they  attached  to  me,  that  all  events 
which  occurred  subsequently  were  dated  from  the 
day  I  paid  my  first  visit  to  their  house. 

Xo\v  began  the  happiest  phase  of  my  existence;  it 
was  of  few  months'  duration,  but  it  was  a  happy 
time  while  it  lasted.  I  lived  in  a  world  of  which 
I  had  dreamt,  without  any  hope  of  my  dream  being 
realized;  now,  the  study  which  had  been  my  solace 
in  the  few  hours'  respite  from  toilsome,  because 
unpalatable,  work,  had  become  the  pleasurable  occu- 
pation of  my  life.  I  was  under  the  care  of  one  who 
was  at  once  my  teacher  and  friend,  and  I  looked 
forward  with  hope  to  win  an  honourable  place  in  the 
arena  I  had  chosen.  An  occasional  moment's  reflec- 
tion on  my  slender  means,  and  the  probable  neces- 
sity of  having  to  apply  to  my  father  for  assistance, 
was  the  only  bar  to  my  complete  happiness. 

I  had  a  lesson  every  alternate  day,  and  they  were 
red-letter  days!  Xava  took  great  pains  about  my 
speaking.  as  well  as  about  my  singing,  and,  unless 
lie  had  urgent  business  to  call  him  away,  used  to 
keep  me  long  after  the  stipulated  singing  hour  con- 
versing. He  did  not  know  a  word  of  English,  so 
I  was  not  shy,  and  blundered  on  as  best  I  could,  he 
correcting  my  mistakes.  I  also  became  acquainted 


74  R]':.-\n\ISCENCES    OF   CHARLES   SANTLEY 

with  his  family,  especially  with  two  of  his  sons,  the 
younger  a  student  of  law,  and  an  exceedingly  good 
scholar;  the  elder  a  professor  of  the  pianoforte,  a 
ch-ver  youth,  but  idle  and  negligent  with  his  pupils. 

Lombardy,  like  all  the  other  Italian  provinces, 
has  its  dialect,  which  undergoes  variations  of  form 
in  each  town  of  the  province.  In  Milan  there  are, 
or  were,  three  forms  —  that  of  Porta  Ticinese  (the 
low  part  of  the  city),  where  they  spoke  the  dialect 
which  Porta,  a  very  humorous  Milanese  poet,  has 
made  famous;  that  of  the  middle-class,  tradesmen 
and  shopkeepers;  and  that  of  the  gentry  and  aris- 
tocracy. In  one  form  or  another  all  the  inhabitants 
converse  in  dialect;  many  know  Italian  well;  few, 
however,  can  hold  a  conversation  in  it,  in  conse- 
quence of  which  I  had  few  opportunities  of  exercis- 
ing my  ear,  until  I  became  intimate  and  had  frequent 
conversations  with  my  master  and  his  family,  and 
made  slow  progress  in  conversation.  In  music  or 
language  I  never  could  pick  up  anything  from  mere 
sound;  I  must  distinguish  in  my  mind's-eye  the 
note  or  the  word,  or  the  sound  leaves  no  impression. 

I  was  always  a  slow  worker,  slow  at  taking 
instruction,  and  slow  at  digesting  it.  I  never  could 
work  well  shut  up  in  a  room  —  I  must  be  moving. 
I  have  done  a  great  deal  of  work  travelling  by  rail, 
but  I  prefer  walking,  and  in  the  open  air.  In  a  few 
minutes'  strolling  about  Hampstead  Heath  I  can 
work  out  an  idea,  over  which  I  have  pondered  for 
hours  in  my  own  study  without  success!  Meclmni- 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SAXTLEY          75 

c:(]  work,  such  ;is  scales,  xolfepiji,  or  transcribing,  I 
can  do  at  home,  though  I  have  wakened  the  echoes 
many  a  half- hour  on  the  hills  about  the  Italian  lakes 
and  in  the  pine-woods  of  the  Black  Forest,  exercis- 
ing my  voice.  I  was  always  fond  of  walking:  per- 
haps I  might  have  preferred  riding,  had  I  possessed 
sufficient  means  to  purchase  and  keep  a  horse.  For 
the  lirst  few  months  I  resided  in  Milan,  to  avoid  the 
nuisance  of  the  octroi  inspection,  my  dailv  walk  was 
round  the  bastions,  about  seven  miles.  During  the 
day  they  were  little  frequented  by  pedestrians,  so  I 
could  take  my  exercise  and  study  in  peace.  I  might 
have  learned  military  drill,  both  cavalry  and  infan- 
try, as  all  the  available  space  on  the  bastions  and 
I'ia/./.a  d'Armi  was  in  constant  requisition  for  drill- 
ing troops,  had  my  taste  leaned  that  way.  The 
Hungarian  hussars  alone  attracted  my  attention, 
they  looked  so  picturesque  in  their  handsome  uni- 
form and  mounted  on  their  fiery  little  black  steeds. 
The  little  military  ardour  I  possessed  would  soon 
have  been  quenched  by  the  bullying  of  the  Austrian 
officers,  at  times  very  rough. 

The  Scala  was  open  only  during  the  Carnival  and 
Lent,  from  the  :Mth  of  December  until  Easter-Eve. 
I  nder  the  same  management,  the  autumn  season, 
during  the  months  of  October  and  November,  was 
held  at  the  Cannobiana.  a  much  less  spacious 
theatre,  and  not  by  any  means  so  good  for  sound, 
The  operas  in  course  of  representation  when  I 
arrived  were  "  Gli  Ugonotti."  "La  Favorita,"  and 


76  REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES   SANTLEY 

"I  Puritani,"  and  a  few  nights  towards  the  close  of 
the  season  were  devoted  to  selections  from  these  and 
other  operas  not  included  in  the  repertoire.  Of  the 
singers,  the  only  soprano  I  remember  was  Madame 
Angles  Fortuni,  whom  I  only  heard  in  a  scene 
from  one  of  Donizetti's  or  Bellini's  operas.  I  liked 
her,  and  she  was  evidently  a  great  favourite  with 
the  public,  as  she  was  much  applauded,  both  on  her 
appearance  on  the  stage  (an  unusual  thing  in  those 
days)  and  at  the  termination  of  her  scene.  The 
principal  tenor  was  Antonio  Giuglini,  this  being 
his  first  season  in  Milan,  I  believe.  He  had  created 
a  perfect  furore.  Wherever  music  happened  to  be 
the  subject  of  conversation,  Giuglini  was  the  hero, 
a  curious  fact,  considering  that  powerful  lungs  are 
supposed  to  carry  the  day.  Giuglini  was  a  proof 
that  physical  force  does  not  always  win;  his  voice 
was  not  powerful,  but  it  was  of  sympathetic  quality, 
although  slightly  throaty,  and  his  phrasing  was 
perfect;  any  ornament  he  introduced  he  invariably 
executed  with  precision  and  elegance.  He  was  not 
a  clumsy  man,  but  as  an  actor  he  was  ungraceful, 
and  lacked  intelligence.  In  the  part  of  Raoul,  the 
part  in  which  I  first  saw  him,  he  sang  charmingly, 
but  manly  bearing,  and  fire  were  entirely  wanting, 
with  the  result  that  his  performance  was  dull  and 
insipid.  In  "I  Puritan! "  he  was  quite  at  home,  his 
rendering  of  Arturo's  music,  than  which  more  deli- 
cious love-strains  have  never  been  written,  riveted 
the  attention  so  completely,  that  the  actor  was  lost 
sight  of.  On  one  of  the  selection-evenings,  he,  with 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY          77 

a  very  good  buffo,  Scheggi,  and  Marini,  a  world- 
renowned  bass,  sang  the  splendid  trio  "Pappataci," 
from  "L'ltaliana  in  Algeria."  It  was  a  perfect 
treat,  and  was  vociferously  redemanded  (encores 
were  not  then  in  vogue  in  Italy),  and,  by  general 
desire,  repeated  on  subsequent  nights.  Enrico 
Delle  Sedie,  who  sang  in  London  some  years  ago, 
was  the  principal  baritone,  and  deservedly  a  great 
favourite.  The  basses  were  a  Spaniard,  named 
Pedro  Nolasco  Llorens,  who  possessed  a  sonorous 
voice,  with  a  rough,  energetic  style  of  using  it,  and 
Marini,  who,  except  Formes,  was  the  best  Marcel  I 
ever  saw.  He  had  at  that  time,  after  a  long  and 
arduous  career,  a  fine  trumpet-toned  voice  of  greater 
compass  than  Lablache's,  but  of  similar  timbre,  and 
was  an  excellent  actor.  The  chorus  was  good;  the 
orchestra,  that  of  the  Scala,  with  a  slightly  reduced 
number  of  strings,  under  the  direction  of  my  friend 
Eugenio  Cavallini,  was  very  good.  Two  qualities 
it  displayed  which  struck  me  forcibly  —  the  superior 
way  in  which  the  stringed  instruments  "sang"  their 
music  to  what  I  had  been  accustomed,  and  the 
superiority  of  the  double-basses  in  refinement,  exe- 
cution, and  solidity;  they  were  never  heard  except 
when  playing  alone,  but  the  fine  effect  they  produced 
was  invariably  felt. 

I  saw  Ristori  in  "Maria  Stuarda."  I  recognized 
in  her  a  noble  actress,  but  my  enjoyment  of  her 
performance  was  greatly  marred  through  my  imper- 
fect acquaintance  with  Italian  —  I  had  not  been  a 
month  in  Italy. 


CHAPTER   VI 

Vocalizsi  and  Sulfegyi  —  Italian  Vowel  Sounds  —  Is  Italian  easy 
to  sing  ?  —  My  First  Piece  —  The  Value  of  Concerted  Vocal 
Music  —  "  Donna  Pacifica  ''  — My  Fellow-pupils :  Luigia  Perelli 
and  Luigia  Pessina  —  My  Friends  the  Maranis  —  "II  Signor 
Inglese1' — The  Scala  Programme,  1855-56  —  I  become  a  Sub- 
scriber to  the  Pit  —  Subsidies  and  Government  Supervision  — 
Gardoui's  Experiences  —  A  Short  Way  with  Nervous  Baritones 

—  The  Vagaries  of  the  Censorship  —  "Liberia"  and  "Lealta" 

—  Ronconi's  Humour  —  Description  of  the  Scala  in  1855 — Rec- 
ollections of  the  Season — Italian  Audiences  :  their  decided  way 
of  expressing  an  opinion  —  A  Ludicrous  Performance  of  "  Marino 
Faliero." 

AT  my  first  interview  with  Nava,  to  give  him  a 
notion  of  my  capabilities,  I  sang  one  of  his  own 
vocalizzi  at  sight.  He  was  •  greatly  pleased  and 
astonished,  not  only  that  I  could  read  it  off,  but 
also  execute  the  passages  with  facility  —  thanks  to 
the  early  training  I  went  through  with  my  father. 
For  the  information  of  those  who  are  not  versed  in 
musical  phraseology,  a  vocalizzo  is  "a  song  without 
words,"  vocalized  to  the  vowel  «,  the  exercise  of 
which  enables  the  student  to  unite  the  various  com- 
binations of  notes  he  has  learned  in  his  preliminary 
studies,  previous  to  the  final  study  of  interpreting 
language  through  the  medium  of  music.  The  sol- 
feggio differs  from  the  vocalizzo  in  that,  as  each  note 
78 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY         79 

is  sung,  its  name  is  pronounced;  this  serves  to 
facilitate  the  acquirement  of  reading  music  —  as 
there  can  be  no  guess-work  —  and  of  a  clear  pronun- 
ciation, more  especially  of  the  pure  sound  of  the 
Italian  vowels,  a  most  difficult  task  for  an  English- 
speaking  student,  as  anyone  who  considers  the  care- 
less manner  in  which  we  treat  vowels  will  readily 
understand. 

Only  one  vowel  in  Italian  possesses  two  sounds : 
o,  pronounced  sometimes  as  oa  in  moan,  e.g.,  amore, 
and  at  others  as  o  in  got,  e.g.,  rosa.  The  e  and  i  at 
the  end  of  a  syllable  require  great  attention;  Eng- 
lish singers  invariably,  unless  carefully  corrected, 
add  an  i  after  the  e  or  i  already  belonging  to  the 
syllable,  and  thus  be-ne  becomes  be-i-ne,  Di-o  be- 
comes Di-io,  etc.,  a  barbarous  defect  to  an  Italian  or 
Italianized  ear.  The  Italian  u,  equivalent  to  our 
oo,  is  frequently  pronounced  like  u  in  "curious"  by 
our  singers. 

I  have  often  heard  English  vocalists  say  they  pre- 
ferred singing  in  Italian,  because  it  is  so  much 
easier  than  singing  in  English.  It  may  be  pleas- 
anter  .to  them,  and  seem  easier,  but  to  those  of  their 
audience  whose  ears  are  accustomed  to  the  beauty 
and  delicacy  of  the  Italian  language,  the  gibberish 
they  utter  entirely  mars  any  effect  they  might  make 
with  their  vocalization ;  much  better  would  it  be 
if  they  converted  their  songs  into  vocalizzi.  Like 
many  other  things,  singing  in  Italian  is  "easy  to 
get  through,"  but  it  is  difficult  to  do  properly.  It 


80  REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

is  only  a  question  of  intelligence  and  application ; 
"what  man  has  done,  man  may  do"  -if  he  has 
but  the  will.  The  words!  the  words!!  the  words!!! 
Without  the  words  there  is  no  accent;  without  the 
accent  there  is  no  singing.  I  once  heard  a  man  say 
(he  was  an  English  professor  of  music  who  did  not 
understand  a  word  of  Italian)  that  he  preferred 
Italian  to  English  opera.  1  suggested,  "What 
about  the  words?"  "Oh,"  said  he,  "I  would  rather 
not  hear  the  words."  It  is  not  for  such  as  he  I 
write  my  words. 

I  would  impress  on  students  the  necessity  for 
refinement,  delicacy,  and  finish  in  the  execution  of 
all  detail,  whether  of  music  or  language ;  attention 
to  these  distinguishes  the  artist  from  the  artisan. 

I  commenced  my  lesson  always  with  preliminary 
vocal  exercises,  taken  in  progressive  order  as  I 
mastered  them ;  the  whole  course,  from  the  simplest 
combination  of  notes  to  the  study  of  the  shake,  with 
which  I  concluded,  occupying  twelve  months.  I 
then  sang  one  or  two  solfeggi,  which,  after  a  few 
weeks,  as  I  was  already  a  good  reader,  were  replaced 
by  vocalizzi,  though  I  still  worked  at  solfeggi  for  the 
exercise  of  pronunciation  at  home;  and  I  finished 
with  the  study  of  detached  pieces  from  operas,  in 
which  the  facility  of  vocalization  I  had  acquired  was 
most  available.  "Semiramide"  was  my  master's 
pre'dilection,  an  opera  full  to  overflowing  of  excel- 
lent study  for  a  vocalist,  but  to  my  mind  tiresome, 
now  that  singers,  for  what  reason  I  am  not  prepared 


REMINISCENCES   OF   CHARLES  SANTLEY          81 

to  say,  are  rarely  to  be  found  who  possess  the  facility 
and  precision  of  execution  necessary  to  enable  them 
to  take  part  in  such  a  work. 

The  first  piece  I  was  entrusted  with  was  the  great 
duet  from  "Semiramide"  for  the  Queen  and  Assur, 
commencing  with  the  fine  introductory  recitative,  in 
order  that  I  might  sing  it  with  one  of  his  pupils  at 
the  Conservatorio.  It  was  a  favourite  practice  of 
his  to  bring  his  pupils  together  in  the  study  of  con- 
certed music,  a  study  the  value  of  which,  I  think, 
cannot  be  too  highly  estimated.  It  moderates  the 
exaggerated  zeal  of  one,  and  rouses  the  apathetic 
indifference  of  another;  it  leads  two  or  more  people 
to  blend  a  multiplicity  of  sentiments  and  character- 
istics, so  as  to  produce  a  result  apparently  conceived 
by  one  mind.  What  is  more  miserable  than  to  hear 
a  duet  where  the  singers  are  at  variance  in  accent, 
in  expression,  in  all  that  makes  the  absurdity  of  two 
people  saving  the  same  thing,  at  the  same  time,  to 
or  at  each  other,  tolerable  ? 

The  study  of  subservience  in  concerted  music  is 
of  infinite  value  to  the  true  artist;  he  must  stoop 
with  the  weak  and  mount  with  the  strong.  He  can 
compare  his  own  powers  with  those  of  other  artists, 
greater,  equal,  or  inferior  to  himself,  and  he  cannot 
fail  to  pick  up  occasionally  important  ideas  which 
never  struck  him  before,  and  which  he  can  and 
will  use  to  his  advantage,  or,  by  observing  them 
in  others,  discover  defects  in  his  own  performances 
which  lie  will  studv  to  avoid. 


82  REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

The  pupil  with  whom  I  sang  the  "  Semiramide  " 
duet,  Amalia  Peroni,  possessed  a  soprano  voice  of 
very  good  quality,  flexible,  and  sufficiently  power- 
ful; she  lacked  animation,  however,  and  her  com- 
panions called  her  Donna  Pacifica.  Nava  gave  her 
the  duet  to  induce  her  to  rouse  herself  to  some 
enthusiasm,  but  except  on  one  or  two  occasions, 
her  performance  was  purely  mechanical  —  technically 
perfect,  but  colourless  in  expression.  Her  features 
were  beautiful,  but  her  face,  like  her  singing,  was 
without  animation.  I  believe  her  apathy  was  due 
rather  to  want  of  physical  strength  than  of  feeling, 
for  she  died  of  consumption  shortly  after  making  her 
first  appearance  on  the  stage.  During  the  term  of 
my  studies  I  sang  with  others  of  my  master's  pupils, 
only  two  of  whom  I  met  with  afterwards.  Luigia 
Perelli,  also  a  soprano,  had  a  quite  opposite  char- 
acter to  her  class-mate.  She  possessed  charm  both 
of  feature  and  voice,  and  was  full  of  animation  and 
sentiment.  We  sang  together  a  duet  from  Merca- 
dante's  "Zaira,"  but  only  a  few  times  as  a  study,  as 
she  never  liked  it,  preferring  the  somewhat  exagger- 
ated pathos  of  Verdi  to  the  dry  sentiment  of  Merca- 
dante.  She  made  her  first  appearance  in  public  at 
the  Cannobiana  during  the  autumn  season  of  1856 
as  Adalgisa  in  "Norma,"  very  successfully,  and  after 
appearing  at  some  of  the  principal  theatres  in  Italy, 
she  was  engaged  for  several  seasons  at  St.  Peters- 
burg. In  1872  I  met  her  again  at  Nava's  house, 
grown  into  a  plump,  handsome  matron,  when  we 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  S ANT  LEY         83 

sang,  accompanied  by  our  master,  and  to  his  great 
delight,  one  of  the  duets  from  "Rigoletto."  The 
other  was  Luigia  Pessina,  a  handsome  brunette, 
with  a  magnificent  mezzo-soprano  voice,  which  she 
used  well.  We  studied  and  sang  together  on  divers 
occasions  a  fine  duet  from  Rossini's  "  Maometto 
Secondo,"  better  known  as  "The  Siege  of  Corinth." 
When  I  was  singing  at  the  Scala  during  the  Carni- 
val 1865-66,  she  was  playing  Adalgisa  in  '*  Xorma  ": 
since  then  I  have  lost  sight  of  her. 

On  the  evening  of  the  27th  of  December  a  concert 
by  Nava's  pupils  and  his  son  David,  the  pianist,  was 
given  in  the  house  of  Signer  Giovanni  Marani, 
whose  eldest  daughter  was  under  Nava's  tuition,  to 
celebrate  his  saint's  day.  In  Italy,  as  in  all  Catho- 
lic countries,  they  keep  up  the  saint's  day,  not  the 
birthday,  as  we  do.  A  rehearsal  was  held  the  day 
before  at  Signer  Marani's  house,  when  at  his  request 
and  that  of  his  wife  I  was  presented  to  the  family. 
I  was  too  shy  to  attempt  much  in  the  way  of  conver- 
sation, so  retired  into  a  corner,  where,  undisturbed, 
I  could  enjoy  the  music  and  observe  the  audience. 
I  could  not  help  contrasting  the  lively  way  in  which 
they  amused  themselves  with  the  "sad"  way  in 
which,  as  a  rule,  audiences  enjoy  themselves  at 
home.  During  my  stay  in  Milan  I  was  a  constant 
guest  at  the  Maranis'.  I  owe  them  a  debt  of  grati- 
tude for  the  intimate  friendly  intercourse  to  which 
they  admitted  me,  and  the  almost  parental  interest 
they  took  in  my  welfare.  They  used  to  hold  a 


84          REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

"conversazione"  every  Sunday  evening  during  the 
winter  and  spring  months,  which  consisted  of  con- 
versation, interspersed  with  vocal  and  instrumental 
music,  concluding  with  an  informal  dance.  At  one 
of  these  I  sang  for  the  first  time  to  an  Italian  audi- 
ence, and  was  so  well  received  by  their  extensive 
circle  of  friends  and  relations,  that  for  the  remainder 
of  my  stay  I  had  to  do  my  share  of  singing  and 
dancing  each  evening  —  a  grateful  task,  as  I  had  the 
satisfaction  of  at  once  affording  amusement  to  my 
hosts  and  their  company,  and  deriving  profit  myself 
—  exercising  what  I  learned.  I  had  also  the  advan- 
tage of  joining  in  promiscuous  conversation.  Gen- 
erally, as  the  guests  were  assembling,  I  found  myself 
the  centre  of  a  group  of  merry  girls,  who  discovered 
a  great  fund  of  amusement  in  the  grotesque  mistakes 
of  II  Signor  Inylese,  the  title  by  which  I  was  invari- 
ably addressed.  How  odd  we  should  think  it,  were 
we  to  hear  a  group  of  English  girls  addressing  a 
foreigner  as  "  Mr.  Italian ! "  They  had  many  a 
"roar"  at  my  expense,  in  which  I  joined  heartily; 
for  it  was  impossible  to  feel  offended  —  they  took 
such  pains,  and  were  so  patient  in  correcting  my 
blunders. 

The  announcement  containing  the  repertoire  of 
operas  and  ballets,  names  of  artists  and  instrumen- 
talists, prices  of  subscription  and  admission,  etc., 
for  the  Carnival  and  Lent  season  of  1855-56  at  the 
Scala  appeared  on  the  walls  about  the  end  of  Novem- 
ber. The  works  promised  were :  operas,  "L'Ebreo" 


KEAfIXfSCEATCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY         85 

of  Apollini,  "  Giovanni  Giscala  "  (I  forget  the  com- 
poser's name),  "L'Assedio  di  Leida"  of  Petrella, 
and  "I  Vespri  Siciliani "  ("Giovanna  de  Guzman," 
under  which  title  it  was  represented)  of  Verdi  —  all 
new  to  Milan  —  "II  Prof  eta  "  (Meyerbeer),  "Rigo- 
letto  "  (Verdi),  "  Lucrezia  Borgia  "  and  "  Marino 
Faliero  "  (Donizetti),  and  three  ballets.  The  singers 
were  Marianna  Barbieri-Xini,  Scotta,  Eliza  Masson, 
and  a  contralto  whose  name  I  do  not  recollect,  a 
pupil  of  the  Conservatoire,  her  first  appearance  on 
the  stage,  and  a  very  promising  artist.  Lodovico 
Graziani  (brother  of  the  baritone),  Bernardo  Massi- 
miliani,  and  Carlo  Liverani  were  the  tenors;  Leone 
Giraldoni  and  Giovanni  Corsi  the  baritones ;  Euge- 
nio  Manfredi  and  Cesare  Xanni  the  basses;  Caterina 
Beretta  was  the  principal  dancer;  Emsio  Catte  prin- 
cipal mime.  The  orchestra,  under  the  direction  of 
Eugenio  Cavallini,  numbered  about  ninety  pro- 
lessors.  The  season  extended  over  about  three 
months,  during  which  there  were  five  performances 
each  week,  except  Holy  Week,  when  two  concerts 
—  one  secular  and  one  sacred  —  were  given  in  lieu 
of  opera.  The  first  concert  included  David's  can- 
tata, "II  Deserto,"  overture  to  "Guglielmo  Tell" 
(Rossini),  a  concert-overture  by  Jacopo  Foroni,  and 
other  pieces;  the  second  included  the  "Stabat 
Mater "  of  Rossini,  and  selections  from  the  "  San 
Paolo  "  of  Mendelssohn,  and  other  works. 

On  the  recommendation  of  my  master,  I  became  a 
subscriber  for  the  season,  my  ticket  for  the  pit  cost- 


86          REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

ing  me  sixty-five  zwanzigers  (about  forty-five  shil- 
lings), a  reduction  of  fifteen  zwanzigers  on  the  full 
price  being  accorded  to  musical  students  and  officers, 
civil  and  military.  The  Scala  and  the  Cannobiana, 
the  two  patent  theatres,  were  held  under  the  same 
lease,  the  lessees  receiving  a  subsidy  from  the  Gov- 
ernment of  (I  think)  250,000  francs  per  annum,  in 
return  for  which  they  were  bound  to  carry  out  cer- 
tain stipulations,  the  most  important  of  which  were 
as  follows:  To  produce  a  certain  number  of  operas 
never  before  represented  in  Milan  during  each  Car- 
nival and  Autumn  season;  to  provide  a  double 
company,  one  of  which  must  be  of  singers  of 
acknowledged  celebrity  (cantanti  di  carteUo);  to 
retain  sufficient  accommodation  in  the  stalls  for  the 
officers  quartered  in  and  about  the  city;  to  engage 
orchestra,  chorus,  and  corps  de  ballet,  and  supply 
scenery,  wardrobe,  and  other  stage  accessories  and 
appointments  of  standard  excellence.  The  whole 
business  was  carried  out  under  the  supervision  of 
two  gentlemen  holding  a  Government  commission, 
who  were  likewise  responsible  for  the  mutual  fulfil- 
ment of  engagements  between  the  management  and 
artists  and  others  employed  in  the  theatre,  and  the 
deciding  of  all  disputes  according  to  established 
laws  and  customs,  equally  binding  on  both  parties. 
Gardoni  told  me  an  amusing  anecdote  a  propos  of 
this  Government  supervision.  Having  become  in- 
volved in  a  dispute  with  the  management  in  the 
course  of  an  engagement  at  the  Scala  respecting 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY          87 

what  he  deemed  an  imposition  on  their  part,  he  took 
the  law  into  his  own  hands,  and,  without  notifying 
his  intention,  escaped  in  the  diligence  for  Paris. 
At  the  frontier  he  had  to  descend  with  his  fellow- 
passengers  to  have  his  passport  examined.  He  had 
not  visited  the  police-office  to  obtain  it,  knowing  he 
would  have  been  stopped  at  once,  and  hoping  to 
elude  the  vigilance  of  the  officer  at  the  frontier. 
He  had  only  his  "carta  di  sicurezza  "  to  show,  and 
was,  accordingly,  requested  to  step  into  a  side  room, 
from  whence  he  had  the  felicity  of  watching  the 
diligence  depart,  and  of  returning  to  Milan,  accom- 
panied by  a  couple  of  gens  d'armes.  He  was  lodged 
in  the  prison  of  Santa  Margherita  for  a  week,  and 
each  evening  he  had  to  sing,  being  driven  to  the 
theatre  and  back  with  a  similar  escort,  who,  besides, 
kept  a  careful  watch  over  him  during  the  perform- 
ance. It  seems  a  hard  case,  but  similar  treatment 
would  have  attended  the  managers  had  they,  on 
their  side,  committed  a  breach  of  contract.  I 
remember  a  baritone,  Luigi  Valle,  being  engaged 
to  play  Xabucco  at  the  C'arcano.  an  excellent  artist, 
but  a  victim  to  extreme  nervousness.  He  had  not 
even  the  courage  to  leave  his  house  the  first  night 
the  opera  was  announced,  excusing  himself  on  the 
plea  of  suffering  from  hoarseness.  An  incompetent 
singer  was  substituted,  the  consequence  being  a  row 
in  the  house ;  the  second  performance  was  a  repeti- 
tion of  the  first,  except  that  the  row  became  a  riot; 
the  third  night  the  police  called  for  the  affrighted 


88          REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

baritone,  drove  him  to  the  theatre,  kept  guard  out- 
side his  room  whilst  he  dressed,  and  forced  him  on 
to  the  stage.  The  house  was  packed,  and  Valle  was 
so  paralyzed  that  they  had  to  lift  him  off  the  horse 
on  which  he  made  his  entry.  The  opening  notes 
betrayed  the  anguish  which  oppressed  him,  and  were 
listened  to  in  dead  silence.  In  desperation,  pulling 
himself  together,  he  delivered  his  first  important 
phrase  magnificently;  it  shot  through  the  house  like 
a  flash  of  lightning,  followed  by  a  peal  of  thunder 
such  as  only  excited  Italians  or  Spaniards  know  how 
to  fire  off! 

The  word  "liberta  "  was  expunged  from  the  Italian 
stage-vocabulary  by  the  Austrians.  In  the  duet 
"Suoni  la  tromba"  ("I  Puritan i"),  on  one  occasion, 
Giorgio  Ronconi  gave  the  words  " grid 'an do  liberta" 
with  such  vigour  and  emphasis  that  the  audience 
were  excited  to  the  pitch  of  frenzy,  and  a  great 
commotion  ensued.  Next  morning  he  received  a 
reprimand  for  using  the  prohibited  word,  accom- 
panied by  a  request  to  use  the  word  "  lealta "  on 
future  occasions  in  its  stead.  Shortly  after,  playing 
"II  Sargente  "  in  "L'Elisir  d'Amore,"  in  deference 
to  the  request,  for  "perde  la  liberta"  he  substituted 
"perde"  la  lealta/' which  was  received  with  shrieks 
of  laughter  by  the  audience,  to  the  great  discom- 
fiture of  the  advocates  of  "loyalty." 

The  season  commenced  with  "L'Ebreo."  There 
was  a  great  rush  on  the  first  night,  but,  having  been 
warned,  I  was  at  the  doors  an  hour  or  more  before 


REMINISCENCES    OF   CHARLES   SANTLEY          89 

tlicv  opened,  and  so  secured  a  seat.  The  theatre 
looked  dull  and  dismal;  the  glimmer  of  light 
afforded  by  a  single  lamp  suspended  from  the  top 
of  the  proscenium  only  served  to  make  darkness 
visible.  The  Scala  in  1855  was  lighted,  stage  and 
auditorium,  with  oil-lamps;  the  chandelier,  formed 
of  a  large  cluster  of  them,  was  lowered  to  the  floor 
of  the  pit,  lighted,  and  hoisted  back  to  its  place 
about  half  an  hour  before  the  performance  com- 
menced. In  1865,  when  I  sang  there,  it  was  lighted 
with  gas;  and  in  1883,  when  I  took  a  friend  to  see 
it,  the  electric  light  was  used  throughout  the  entire 
building.  It  is  a  beautifully-proportioned  theatre, 
its  acoustic  properties  perfect;  the  stage,  already 
spacious,  was  enlarged  a  few  years  ago.  The  custo- 
dian informed  me  they  have  had  as  many  as  1,200 
persons,  besides  horses  and  an  elephant,  on  in  one 
ballet  scene. 

I  do  not  think  a  detailed  account  of  the  season 
would  be  interesting  after  the  lapse  of  so  many 
years,  so  I  will  merely  note  a  few  of  my  recollec- 
tions. 

"I  Vespri  Sicilian!  "  had  a  great  success ;  with  the 
exception  of  the  basso,  I  liked  the  performance  quite 
as  well  as  that  I  witnessed  in  Paris.  Nanni,  Obin's 
representative,  was  so  bad  he  was  replaced  after 
three  performances  by  Giorgio  Attry,  since  known 
at  the  Royal  Italian  Opera;  but  neither  of  them 
came  within  a  long  distance  of  the  original.  Of 
"L'Ebreo, "  only  one  number,  a  romance  for  the 


90  REMINISCENCES    OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

tenor  (Graziani)  sung  behind  the  scenes,  interested 
me;  the  rest  I  found  very  weak  in  substance, 
though  noisy  in  expression.  "  Giovanni  Giscala " 
was  a  failure,  and  played  only  one  or  two  nights. 
"L'Assedio  di  Leida"  I  did  not  hear.  During  the 
performance  of  the  ballet  I  had  an  opportunity  of 
learning  how  emphatically  an  Italian  audience  can 
express  disapprobation.  The  ballet  was  a  failure;  I 
did  not  discover  why.  The  grouping  of  the  "  corps 
de  ballet,"  the  dancing  of  the  principal  executants, 
everything  appeared  to  me  very  good,  but  evidently 
my  taste  and  knowledge  lacked  cultivation.  From 
beginning  to  end,  with  very  slight  cessation,  and 
that  seemingly  made  by  mutual  consent,  in  order  to 
take  breath  and  begin  again  with  renewed  vigour, 
the  audience  hissed,  screamed,  yelled,  hooted,  and 
shouted  "basta!  basta!"  —  in  fact,  they  behaved 
like  so  many  demons  in  torment.  I  could  not  help 
thinking  it  was  "Much  ado  about  nothing,"  but  it 
must  be  remembered  that  there  were  a  limited  num- 
ber of  works  announced  for  performance  during  the 
season,  any  of  which,  having  passed  the  ordeal, 
would  be  served  up  for  an  unlimited  number  of 
nights.  It  might  not  seem  necessary  to  make  such 
a  hubbub;  but  managers  are  notoriously  afflicted 
with  chronic  deafness,  and  Italians  are  vehement  in 
demanding  an  adequate  return  for  their  money.  I 
do  not  blame  them;  on  the  contrary,  I  think  there 
are  occasions  on  which  their  example  might  be  fol- 
lowed, both  in  theatre  and  in  concert-room,  with 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY         91 

great  benefit  to  musical  society,  by  my  compatriots. 
The  opinion  of  the  Italian  public  may  be  just  or  un- 
just, but,  undoubtedly,  it  is  decided.  They  manifest 
it  clearly;  nor  do  they  always  wait  until  the  end  of 
a  number,  as  is  the  rule  with  us.  How  often  do  we 
hear  poor  stuff,  badly  sung,  applauded  vociferously 
on  account  of  some  high  or  low  note  introduced  at 
the  end  of  a  cadence?  Without  interrupting  the 
performance,  they  express  their  approbation  with  a 
murmur  of  satisfaction,  or  a  short  sharp  "bravo," 
very  encouraging  to  the  performer.  When  they 
disapprove  they  show  little  mercy,  except  to  mod- 
est young  artists  suffering  from  stage  fright,  to 
whom  they  express  their  sympathy  by  an  insinuating 
"coraggio."  Anything  like  conceit  or  arrogance 
they  resent;  woe  betide  the  unfortunate  individual^ 
whose  vanity  or  ambition  overrides  their  discretion! 
"There's  rue  for  them";  the  first  slip  is  greeted 
with  a  salvo  of  hisses,  not  readily  forgotten,  and 
generally  topped  up  with  a  recommendation  to  go 
home  and  study.  Occasionally  Italian  audiences 
indulge  in  little  eccentricities;  a  young  handsome 
prima  donna,  whose  talent  is  too  meagre  to  meet 
their  approval,  in  place  of  applause  will  receive  a 
shower  of  kisses  (in  the  air)  mingled  with  exclama- 
tions of  "Bella!  Bella!  "  After  singing  a  low  note 
on  one  occasion  I  heard  a  voice  murmur  patroniz- 
ingly, "  Ohe !  Cantina !  "  ("  Hallo !  Cellar !  ") 

Startling  as  at  first  I  found  their  violent  demon- 
strations, much  more  annoying  I  found  the  incessant 


92  REMINISCENCES    OF  CHARLES  S ANT  LEY 

cluttering  and  laughing  carried  on  during  all  parts 
of  the  performance  uninteresting  to  the  general 
public.  The  Austrian  officers,  who  occupied  the 
two  front  rows  of  stalls,  were  the  ringleaders ;  they 
talked  as  loud  as  though  they  were  addressing  their 
men  on  parade,  accompanying  their  clatter  with  that 
of  their  scabbards  and  spurs ;  the  Italians,  in  emula- 
tion, followed  suit,  the  result  being  a  fair  represen- 
tation of  Chaos.  At  times  the  voices  of  the  singers 
could  not  penetrate  as  far  as  the  pit.  The  scene 
between  Oberthal  and  the  two  Anabaptists  in  "II 
Profeta"  was  always  a  piece  of  dumb  show;  not 
a  sound,  except  an  occasional  loud  chord  in  the 
orchestra,  did  I  ever  hear  of  it. 

At  times,  whilst  there  was  nothing  going  on 
which  interested  them,  almost  the  entire  audience 
left  the  theatre,  returning  in  time  to  hear  a  favourite 
number.  "  Lucrezia  Borgia "  proved  very  attrac- 
tive; during  the  first  and  last  acts  the  theatre  was 
crowded ;  during  the  second  it  was  nearly  deserted, 
the  few  who  remained  indulging  in  audible  con- 
versation varied  with  occasional  sarcastic  remarks 
upon  the  performance  and  performers.  Certainly 
the  appearance  of  the  three  principal  singers  gave 
ample  food  for  mirth.  They  were  all  squat  and 
fat;  Barbieri-Nini,  whose  singing  of  the  two  great 
airs  was  superb,  in  all  else  was  as  unlike  an  ideal 
Lucrezia  as  could  well  be  imagined.  Liverani,  the 
Gennaro,  looked  like  a  hogshead  on  castors,  and 
bellowed  like  a  bull.  Corsi,  Alfonso,  could  not 


OF  CHARLES   SANTLEY          93 

l>ello\v,  but  played  fantastic  tricks  with  his  eyes  to 
a  ludicrous  extent.  The  performance,  the  only  one, 
of  "Marino  Faliero,"  however,  bore  away  the  palm 
for  amusement.  It  was  a  perfect  burlesque,  the 
only  number  that  escaped  the  gibes  of  the  public  was 
Barbieri-Xini's  great  air,  which,  like  those  in  "Lu- 
crezia,"she  sang  to  perfection.  In  the  second  scene, 
towards  the  end  of  an  orchestral  prelude,  I  beheld 
protruding  from  the  wings  what  I  took  for  a  red 
banner,  waving  a  little  above  the  floor;  it  moved 
forward,  followed  by  a  pair  of  very  fat  legs,  sup- 
porting a  portly  paunch ;  a  head  appeared  next,  and 
then  the  entire  body  of  Signer-  Carlo  Liverani  stood 
revealed :  very  uncomfortable  and  uneasy  in  his 
mind  he  looked.  What  I  had  mistaken  for  a  ban- 
ner turned  out  to  be  a  mantle,  worn  over  one 
shoulder,  which  glided  off  at  a  tangent  from  the 
globe  of  flesh  it  was  intended  to  drape.  This  ludi- 
crous figure  roused  the  spirits  of  the  audience,  which 
had  been  gradually  flagging  from  the  commencement 
of  the  opera ;  they  saw  there  was  no  pleasure  to  be 
derived  from  the  performance,  so  they  determined  to 
get  all  the  fun  they  could  out  of  it.  Spite  of  their 
chaff,  the  poor  tenor  struggled  through  an  air,  one 
of  Kubini's  clievaux,  de  bataille,  but  no  sooner  had 
he  touched  the  last  note  than,  terror  lending  him 
wings,  he  bounded  off  the  stage  at  a  hop,  step,  and 
jump,  followed  by  a  peal  of  laughter  which  made 
the  house  vibrate.  Giraldoni  was,  as  we  say  in  the 
north,  like  a  "chip  in  porridge";  Corsi,  Faliero, 


94  REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

undertook  a  part  (written  for  Luigi  Lublache)  for 
which  he  did  not  possess  a  single  qualification.  It 
was  a  disgraceful  performance,  and  well  deserved 
the  derision  with  which  it  was  condemned. 


CHAPTER   VII 

A  ( !i  .Id  Winter  —  Opera  at  the  Carcano  —  The  Caffe  Martini,  a 
Great  Musical  Exchange  —  Struggles  and  Privations  of  Poor 
Singers  —  A  Generous  Landlady  —  The  Cruelty  of  Italian 
Audiences  —  Pacini's  "  Saffo  "  —  Two  Stentors  —  Dramatic  Per- 
formances of  the  Teatro  Re  —  Salvini  —  Goldoni's  Comedies  — 
Concerts  at  the  Scala  :  Felicien  David's  "Le  Dfisert"  and  the 
••  Stabat  Mater  "  —  Four  Conductors  —  Mendelssohn's  "  St. 
Paul ''  —  A  Masked  Ball  —  My  Lancashire  Accent  betrays  mr  — 
A  Dangerous  Costume  —  English  Friends  —  An  Irish  Adventurer 

—  The  Value  of  Dialect  —  Change  of  Lodgings  —  My  New  Land- 
lady —  Noisy  Quarters  —  A  Visit  to  the  Lakes  :  a  Cheap  Holiday 

—  Music  at  the  Duomo  :  an  Aggravating  Conductor  —  A  Great 
1 'readier  —  Church  Music  in  Italy:  Strange  Voluntaries. 

I  ATTENDED  the  performances  regularly  for  a  few 
weeks,  but  the  constant  repetition  of  the  same 
operas,  and  the  annoyance  I  underwent  from  the 
chattering  and  other  disturbances,  damped  my  ar- 
dour. I  looked  about  for  some  other  way  of  passing 
tlic  long  winter  evenings.  The  weather  was  bitterly 
cold,  and  as  I  had  no  means  of  warming  my  room,  it 
was  impossible  to  remain  indoors  reading  or  study- 
ing with  any  comfort.  I  had  a  small  stove  set  up, 
but  found  the  remedy  worse  than  the  disease. 
Though  I  used  little  fuel,  the  heat  it  generated 
affected  my  throat  and  head,  so  I  was  forced  to 
abandon  it:  and  I  had  not  yet  learned  that  for  the 

95 


96           REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SAXTLEY 

price  of  a  cup  of  coffee  I  could  enjoy  the  warm 
shelter  of  a  u  caff e*w  the  whole  evening.  The  most 
convenient  warming  apparatus,  I  discovered,  was  a 
handful  of  hot  roasted  chestnuts  carried  in  each 
pocket  of  my  overcoat :  they  imparted  a  genial  glow 
to  my  outer  surface,  and  made  a  comfortable,  though 
slightly  sfurfy.  lining  to  the  inner  afterwards. 

There  was  an  opera-  at  the  Carcano,  a  second-rate 
theatre,  which  had  seen  palmy  days  when  ''Xorma'' 
first  produced  with  Pasta,  Giulia  Grisi,  Don- 
zelli.  etc..  and  "I  Puritani "  with  Grisi,  Rubin i. 
Tamburini.  and  Luigi  Lablache.  The  productions 
were  on  a  scale  much  inferior  to  the  Scala,  but  for 
a  time  they  proved  an  agreeable  change.  The  com- 
pany, with  two  exceptions,  consisted  of  mediocre 
singers,  either  beginners,  or  of  small  provincial 
celebrity;  some  of  the  oracles  of  the  Caffe  Martini. 
the  trysting  place  at  all  hours  of  the  day,  and  a 
great  part  of  the  night,  for  musicians  of  every 
class,  and  others  connected  with  the  operatic  world 
—  composers,  librettists,  orchestral  directors,  singers, 
instrumentalists,  chorus-mas ters.  prompters,  ballet- 
masters,  dancers.  inim>*.  managers,  and  theatrical 
agents.  There  could  lie  seen  —  except  during  the 
Carnival,  when,  save  those  employed  at  the  Milan 
theatres,  all  the  artists  had  departed  to  fulfil  their 
various  engagements  —  the  celebrity,  in  solemn  dig- 
nified repose,  crowned  with  his  well-merited  wreath 
of  laurels  gained  in  a  recent  campaign ;  the  young 
impetuous  debutant,  fresh  from  the  scene  of  his  first 


OF  CHARLES  SAXTLEY       97 

great  triumph:  the  blatant,  swaggering  nincompoop, 
boasting  of  victories  lie  had  not  won;  and  the 
modest,  earnest  youth,  overshadowed  with  doubt 
about  his  success,  and  fears  for  the  future.  It  was 
at  times  an  interesting  scene  to  l>ehold.  often  amus- 
ing, and  sometimes  a  very  sad  one.  when  the  eye 
rested  in  some  retired  corner  on  a  haggard,  careworn 
face,  watehing  with  avidity  to  lay  hold  on  a  few 
rrumbs  of  comfort  in  the  encouraging  glance  of 
agent  or  comrade.  I  have  witnessed  reunions  of 
artists  of  various  professions,  but  for  contrast  no 
parallel  to  that  of  the  Caffe  .Martini.  The  engage- 
ments, not  only  for  the  theatres  for  Italy  (and  they 
were  legion),  but  for  all  the  European  opera  houses 
—  those  of  America,  North  and  South,  of  Havana, 
Africa,  India,  etc. — were  almost  all  made  through 
the  Milanese  agencies. 

The  Caffe  Martini  was  the  exchange  where  artists 
in  search  of  employment  Avere  wont  to  meet  mana- 
5,  or  agents  commissioned  to  negotiate  for  them. 
With  celebrities,  to  whom  places  were  always  open, 
it  was  only  a  question  of  arrangement  of  terms: 
with  the  great  concourse  of  the  less  famous  and 
inexperienced,  eager  to  find  a  place  somewhere, 
negotiations  were  more  protracted,  and  carried  on 
with  as  much  commercial  strateirv  a>  between  mer- 

O«/ 

chant  and  broker.  For  the  Carnival,  the  principal 
season,  when  every  theatre  in  Italy  was  open,  the 
strife,  except  for  the  better  places,  was  not  so  furi- 
ous, demand  and  supply  being  about  equal.  It  was 


98  REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEV 

for  the  off-seasons,  fair  times  in  Bologna,  Bergamo, 
and  other  cities  that  the  fight  became  deadly.  Some 
of  the  most  noted  singers  who  were  not  engaged  for 
the  foreign  theatres  were  at  liberty,  and  could  afford 
to  accept  moderate  terms,  and  so  debar  those  who 
had  made  headway  during  the  Carnival  from  follow- 
ing up  their  successes  in  desirable  spheres.  Salaries 
were  not  great  in  those  days;  there  were  no  .£200 
per  night  artists.  The  result  was  that  to  live  the 
minor  stars  had  to  fall  back  on  less  important  and 
less  lucrative  engagements ;  they  in  turn  drove  those 
of  lower  rank  to  take  what  would  procure  the  barest 
necessaries  of  life,  and  often  to  the  confines  of  star- 
vation. This  is  no  exaggeration.  I  used  to  visit 
a  fellow  student,  who  had  a  monthly  allowance  from 
home,  at  his  modest  lodging;  in  the  same  domicile 
lived  a  tenor,  who  afterwards  arrived  at  a  position 
of  eminence  in  Italy,  and  a  bass,  who  was  one  of  my 
comrades  during  my  first  season.  Both  these  poor 
fellows  were  without  the  means  of  paying  their  pen- 
sion. Their  landlady  good-naturedly  allowed  them 
to  lodge  on  promise  of  future  payment,  but  was  too 
poor  herself  to  provide  them  with  board;  so  they 
used  to  sit  like  two  hungry  wolves  looking  on  whilst 
my  friend  took  his  meals,  and  gladly  accepted  any 
morsel  he  in  pity  bestowed  on  them.  An}-  Chris- 
tian heart  must  be  moved  to  compassion,  reflect- 
ing on  the  deprivations  endured  by  such  as  are 
brought  up  in  poverty ;  but  that  pity  must  be  surely 
deeper  for  those  who,  having  been  brought  up  amidst 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SAXTLEY         99 

plenty,  are  reduced  by  untoward  circumstances  to 
tin1  very  verge  of  death  from  starvation.  Do  those 
\vlio  pay  their  franc  for  an  evening's  amusement 
ever  reflect  on  the  terrible  wound  they  are  inflicting 
on  a  fellow  creature,  striving  to  entertain  them 
against  lack  of  bodily  strength  from  want  of  nour- 
ishment, when  they  meet  his  efforts  with  contempt 
and  derision?  It  may  be  just.  It  /*  brutal!  Thank 
God,  it  is  not  our  practice  in  England! 

At  the  Caivano  I  heard  Pacini's  "Saffo,"  to  say 
the  least,  a  somewhat  dry  work,  with  Carolina  San- 
nazzaro.  one  of  the  exceptions  I  mentioned  above, 
a  talented  artist,  with  a  small  but  sympathetic  voice, 
who  played  and  sang  the  part  of  "  Saffo"  exceedingly 
well,  especially  the  last  scene.  The  tenor  in  the 
same  opera,  as  also  the  Manrico  in  "II  Trovatore," 
Avas  a  corpulent  gentleman,  with  a  well-developed 
nasal  organ  of  roseate  hue;  and  a  podgy  baritone  (I 
noticed  that  the  tenors  and  baritones  had  a  decided 
inclination  to  obesity),  whom  the  English  students 
nicknamed  "Punch,''  from  an  unmistakable  like- 
ness he  bore  to  that  famous  personage,  played  the 
Conte  di  Luna  in  "II  Trovatore. "  and  E/.io  in 
Verdi's  "Attila."  They  were  two  Stentors:  tliev 
literally  hurled  the  notes  at  the  ears  of  the  audience, 
who  clearly  showed  that  they  did  not  appreciate  such 
wanton  waste  of  energy.  1  felt  sorry  their  efforts 
were  thrown  away,  yet  it  was  a  consolation  to  me  to 
find  that  mere  volume  of  sound  did  not  suffice  to 
captivate  the  sympathy  of  the  public;  my  pipe  of 


100         REMINISCENCES  -OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

itself  would  have  stood  little  chance  against  such 
clarions  as  theirs.  The  other  exception  was  Gio- 
vanni Battista  Antonucci,  a  very  good  bass,  who 
succeeded  in  gaining  a  high  position  in  Italy;  he 
was  a  member  of  Mapleson's  company  the  last  year 
I  belonged  to  it,  when  he  played  Beltramo,  Marcello, 
Sarastro,  etc.,  with  great  success. 

I  considered  it  my  duty  to  hear  as  much  music 
as  possible,  but  so  much  of  the  same  class  became 
monotonous.  I  always  had  more  affection  for  the 
dramatic  than  the  lyric  stage,  and  it  occurred  to  me 
that,  by  paying  a  little  attention  to  the  drama,  I 
might  combine  instruction  with  amusement  as  well 
there  as  at  the  opera.  A  dramatic  company,  under 
the  direction  of  Gaspare  Fieri,  occupied  the  "  Tea- 
tro  Re."  Among  its  members  it  numbered  several 
good  actors  and  actresses,  notably  Fieri  himself,  one 
of  the  best  eccentric  comedians  I  have  seen;  Giu- 
seppina  Casali,  the  leading  lady,  afterwards  Fieri 's 
wife ;  Carlo  Romagnuoli,  a  good  juvenile  tragedian ; 
and  the  now  world-renowned  tragic  luminary, 
Tommaso  Salvini,  who  only  appeared  for  a  few 
nights.  I  saw  him  in  a  melodrama  entitled  "I  due 
Sargenti,"  and  I  shall  ever  regret  I  missed  seeing 
him  in  his  grand  impersonation  of  "Saulle,"  in 
Alfieri's  tragedy.  He  could  not  have  been  more 
than  twenty-five,  but  with  his  noble  voice  and  com- 
manding presence,  united  to  rare  histrionic  genius, 
cultivated  under  Modena,  the  Italian  Edmund  Kean, 
he  had  already  become  one  of  the  greatest  tragedians 


KE.MIXISCEXCES    OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY        101 

the  world  has  produced.  The  company,  always 
good,  were  especially  so  in  the  representation  of 
some  of  Goldoni's  comedies.  As  the  hero  in  "II 
Bugiardo,"  and  Paon  Togn  in  "Le  Baruffe  Chioz- 
/otte,"  Fieri  was  inimitable;  as  also  in  "Box  and 
Cox/'  which  farce  I  saw  then  for  the  only  time  in 
my  life.  One  of  the  dramas,  which  I  enjoyed  very 
much,  was  founded  on  an  episode  in  the  life  of 
Goldoni,  who  is  the  principal  character  in  the  piece, 
entitled  "Goldoni  e  le  sue  sedici  commedie."  The 
lirst  scene  takes  place  in  Goldoni's  study,  the  second 
in  a  caffe",  the  third  on  the  stage  of  a  theatre  during 
the  rehearsal  of  one  of  his  comedies,  and  the  last  in 
the  green-room  whilst  the  first  performance  is  going 
on.  It  is  full  of  the  flavour  of  Venice,  minus  that 
of  her  canals.  My  ardent  desire  to  see  it  acted  on 
its  "native  heath"  was  fulfilled  a  few  years  ago.  I 
arrived  in  Venice  one  evening  with  some  friends; 
whilst  enjoying  a  fragrant  weed  at  a  caffe"  I  men- 
tioned my  desire.  The  next  morning,  the  first  thing 
which  attracted  my  attention  as  I  started  out  of  the 
hotel  was  an  announcement  that  "  Goldoni  e  le  sue 
sedici  commedie  "  would  be  played  that  evening  by 
Bellotti-Bon's  company.  We  booked  places,  went, 
saw.  and  enjoyed  it  thoroughly,  and  oh,  what  a 
crowd  of  recollections  it  conjured  up! 

I  took  a  stall  at  the  Teatro  Re  for  the  half  season, 
about  six  weeks,  Avhere  I  could  enjoy  myself  at  my 
ease  every  night  in  the  week,  including  Sunday,  at 
a  cost  of  about  threepence  per  night.  At  first  I  had 


102         REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

some  difficulty  in  following  the  play,  but  after  a 
fortnight  my  ear  became  so  accustomed,  I  could 
catch  every  word,  and  I  no  longer  perceived  I  was 
listening  to  a  foreign  language. 

Except  the  performance  of  "Giovanni  Giscala," 
and  that  of  the  unhappy  "Faliero,"  I  had  neglected 
my  operatic  friends  entirely.  The  Teatro  Re  closed 
after  Tuesday  in  Holy  AVeek,  so  I  was  free  to  attend 
the  two  concerts  at  the  Scala.  The  secular  concert 
was  not  remarkable  in  any  way.  I  thought  "II 
Deserto  "  a  trifle  dull,  but  I  fancy  the  performance 
cannot  have  been  good,  as  on  hearing  it  again  more 
recently  I  found  it  a  very  interesting  work.  At  the 
second  concert  the  "Stabat  Mater''  was  fairly  well 
executed,  in  spite  of  the  conducting,  which  amused 
me  highly.  The  chorus  was  conveniently  arranged 
on  the  stage,  divided  by  a  gangway  through  which 
the  principal  artists  passed  in  and  out;  the  orchestra 
occupied  its  usual  place,  Cavallini  at  his  post  at  the 
back  of  the  orchestra,  not  close  to  the  stage  as  with 
us;  while  in  front  of  the  stage  sat  the  "maestro 
concertatore "  at  the  piano,  and  in  front  of  each 
wing  of  the  chorus  stood  a  sub-conductor. 

Cavallini  and  the  maestro  at  the  piano  beat  time 
throughout,  and  all  four  in  the  choral  parts  —  and 
not  always  together.  The  result  I  leave  to  the 
imagination  of  those  who  know  something  about 
choral  performances.  The  selection  from  Mendels- 
sohn's "St.  Paul"  was  a  decided  "frost!';  nobody 
concerned  in  the  execution  seemed  to  have  tlic 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY        103 

slightest  idea  of  movement  or  expression ;  the  chorus 
"  How  happy  and  blest  are  they "  was  dragged  so 
fearfully  that  the  theme  was  entirely  lost;  and  the 
air  ''O  God,  have  mercy"  was  simply  murdered. 

I  put  in  an  appearance  at  one  of  the  masked  balls, 
which  are  given  towards  the  end  of  the  Carnival. 
dressed  as  a  "  de"bardeur, "  at  least,  so  the  tailor  said 
from  whom  I  hired  the  costume  for  five  zwanzigers. 
I  wore  a  mask,  and  thus  could  observe  without 
being  observed,  and  hear  without  being  accused  of 
eavesdropping;  and  I  observed  and  heard  several 
curious  things.  The  merriment  was  at  times  bois- 
terous, but  it  was  at  all  times  good-humoured. 
There  was  no  horse-play  and  no  drunkenness.  A 
great  part  of  the  time  I  stood  in  a  retired  nook 
listening  to  the  music.  Those  who  have  not  heard 
a  line  Austrian  band  play  dance  music  have  no  idea 
what  charm  dance  music  can  effect.  I  was  spell- 
bound, and  forgot  all  about  dancers,  masks,  every- 
thing, until  my  attention  was  aroused  by  the  sweet 
sounds  of  my  native  idiom.  They  proceeded  from  a 
masker  dressed  in  what  I  took  to  be  a  quarter- 
master's uniform;  for  a  mask  he  wore  a  huge  paste- 
board nose,  which  covered  a  great  part  of  his  face; 
his  hat-band  bore  the  name  of  H.M.S.  Lion.  He 
was  amusing  himself  talking  English  to  some  ladies 
in  a  box,  who  evidently  did  not  understand  a  word 
lie  said. 

I  followed  him  until  he  joined  some  companions, 
then  accosted  him  (they  were  all  English),  and  was 


104         R&MIN1SC&NCE&   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

introduced  to  the  group  with  "I  say,  boys,  here's  a 
compatriot  with  a  devil  of  an  accent"  —the  Lanca- 
shire lad  would  peep  out.  I  did  not  know  them, 
nor  did  they  know  me,  so  we  agreed  to  meet  at  the 
faffe*  dell'  Europa  the  following  Sunday,  and  scrape 
acquaintance.  The  day  after  the  ball  my  nautical 
friend  received  notice  to  quit  Milan  within  twenty- 
four  hours.  When  he  called  at  the  police  office  to 
learn  the  reason  why,  they  told  him  that  foreign 
officers  were  not  allowed  to  remain  in  Milan  without 
depositing  certain  necessary  documents  and  receiv- 
ing a  "permit"  in  exchange.  In  vain  he  endeav- 
oured to  convince  the  officials  that  he  was  a  student, 
and  the  dress  he  wore,  except  the  hat.  was  the 
uniform  then  adopted  by  the  students  of  the  Royal 
Academy,  Hanover  Square.  Like  me,  he  had  to 
produce  a  satisfactory  certificate  to  that  effect,  when 
he  was  sent  off  with  a  recommendation  to  discard 
the  suspicious  costume  and  avoid  playing  pranks  for 
the  future. 

I  kept  my  appointment  the  following  Sunday,  and 
made  myself  known  to  the  party  I  met  at  the  Sea  la : 
two  of  them  I  still  number  among  my  intimato. 
Until  then  I  had  only  met  one  Englishman  since 
my  arrival  in  Milan,  and,  to  make  a  bull,  he  was  an 
Irishman  and  an  adventurer;  he  forced  himself  on 
me  at  a  caff£,  where  I  was  in  the  habit  of  breakfast- 
ing. I  would  not  have  been  inclined  to  entertain 
his  acquaintance,  but  for  the  opportunity  it  afforded 
me  of  letting  my  tongue  loose  after  a  couple  of 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY         105 

months  of  comparative  silence.  We  arranged  to 
meet  next  day,  to  take  a  walk  together,  when  he 
promised  to  point  out  to  me  some  of  the  places 
and  objects  of  interest;  we  had  a  long  stroll,  and 
parted  near  his  domicile.  The  same  afternoon  I 
received  a  note  from  him,  begging  the  favour  of  a 
loan,  and  enclosing  me  a  ring,  a  valuable  heirloom, 
which  I  was  to  retain  as  security.  It  was  a  well- 
worn  specimen  of  real  "Brummagem."  I  sent  him 
a  live-franc  piece  and  returned  the  heirloom  in  a 
note,  in  which  I  explained  concisely  my  objection 
to  a  continuance  of  his  acquaintance.  I  saw  no 
more  of  him. 

Although  I  was  at  all  times  on  friendly  terms 
with  the  English  students  resident  in  Milan  —  never 
more  than  eight  or  ten  at  that  time,  now  a  regiment 
of  goodness  knows  how  many  hundreds  —  I  kept 
aloof  from  their  society,  as  I  was  bent  on  learning  to 
speak  and  think  in  Italian.  It  is  not  difficult  for 
those  whose  taste  lies  in  that  direction,  and  who  are 
possessed  of  a  good  memory,  to  acquire  the  grammar 
and  words  of  a  foreign  language  from  books ;  but  to 
acquire  the  accent  and  idiom,  conversation  and  the 
power  of  imitation  are  absolutely  necessary.  Nat- 
urally, for  reasons  I  have  already  given,  the  acquisi- 
tion of  a  pure  Italian  accent  is  scarcely  possible  in 
Milan,  but  a  short  residence  in  Tuscany  or  Rome 
will  suffice  to  correct  any  provincialisms.  For  the 
rest.  I  have  found  my  acquaintance  with  the  Lom- 
bard dialects,  the  result  of  hearing  them  so  much, 


106         REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

and  reading  Porta's  and  other  works,  very  useful  in 
my  wanderings  about  the  lakes.  I  can  understand 
and  make  myself  understood  where  a  native  of  Rome 
or  Florence  could  neither  do  one  nor  the  other.  Yet 
I  confess  I  love  to  hear  the  pure  language.  Tuscan 
I  prefer,  though  I  know  I  am  in  the  minority;  the 
language  of  a  Tuscan  peasant  is  a  combination  of 
poetry  and  music. 

I  had  to  change  my  lodgings.  I  learned  from 
friends  that  the  neighbourhood  I  resided  in  was 
infested  with  shady  characters;  in  fact,  I  often 
noticed  unmistakable  specimens  of  the  brigand  spe- 
cies prowling  about  the  courtyard  (there  was  no  por- 
ter's lodge),  especially  at  night.  I  dined  at  a  little 
eating-house  close  by,  in  the  kitchen,  an  honour 
conceded  to  frequenters,  a  salon  being  set  apart  for 
casual  guests.  One  evening,  as  I  was  taking  my 
place,  after  giving  my  instructions  to  the  cook,  the 
landlord  asked  me  if  I  had  lost  anything,  point- 
ing to  my  side  pockets.  I  felt  them,  and  replied  in 
the  negative.  "Because,"  said  he,  "there  was  a 
gentleman  trying  them  just  now,  and,  as  I  did  not 
wish  to  make  a  disturbance,  I  collared  him  and  put 
him  out  quickly  into  the  street!"'  After  that  I 
deemed  it  quite  time  to  clear  out.  Through  the 
instrumentality  of  my  Italian  master,  I  found  a 
comfortable  apartment,  consisting  of  two  rooms  on 
the  fourth  floor  of  a  house  close  to  the  Bibiioteca 
Ambrosiana,  exactly  over  the  rooms  occupied  by 
Verdi  when  he  wrote  "Nabucco,"  for  which  I  paid 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  S  A  NT  LEY        107 

thirty  /.wanzigers  a  month.  My  landlady  was  a 
stout  little  Jewess,  who  perpetually  talked  about 
her  triumphs  in  various  theatres ;  she  had  a  daugh- 
ter, a  singer:  her  mother  acted  as  cook,  and,  like 
Sairy  Gamp,  dropped  more  snuff  into  the  victuals 
than  was  actually  necessary  for  seasoning  purposes. 
This  I  learned  from  future  experience,  as  I  did  not 
board  in  the  house  until  a  year  later.  All  nry  fellow- 
lodgers  were  theatrical  artists  of  one  class  or  another; 
amongst  the  number,  the  knight  of  the  "red  banner" 
in  Marino  Faliero.  When  I  afterwards  became  a 
boarder,  we  had  at  one  time  a  male  dancer,  a  nice- 
looking  young  fellow  who  could  bound  I  don't  know 
ho\v  high  in  the  air,  but  totally  ignorant  of  every- 
thing beyond  his  steps ;  he  was  accompanied  !>}-  his 
mother,  who  took  as  much  care  of  him  as  though  he 
had  been  the  Koh-i-noor.  At  times  the  atmosphere 
of  the  mansion  was  charged  with  music;  I  remember 
one  morning  (I  do  not  know  how  I  could  possibly 
forget  it)  there  was  a  rehearsal  of  "II  Trovatore  "  in 
the  landlady's  private  apartment:  two  other  singers 
and  T  were  practising  scales,  etc..  in  our  several 
rooms:  while  an  organ  on  wheels  and  two  smaller 
ones  were  stationed  immediately  under  the  windows, 
all  working  away  full  blast  simultaneously.  It  was 
rather  like  Bedlam,  but  nobody  seemed  to  mind  the 
confusion  of  sweet  sounds:  and.  after  all,  it  was  not 
worse  than  a  royal  academy  or  conservatorio. 

Early  in  January  I  made  acquaintance  with  the 
Lake  of  Como.     It  was  hardly  the  season  for  a  visit 


108        REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

to  the  lakes,  but  I  took  the  opportunity  offered  by 
my  Italian  master  to  accompany  him  to  Rovenna,  a 
village  situated  about  half-way  up  Monte  Bisbino, 
where  he  had  a  small  property,  consisting  of  a  com- 
fortable dwelling-house  and  a  few  acres  of  land, 
covered  chiefly  with  chestnut-trees.  It  was  arranged 
that  we  each  paid  our  share  of  the  expenses,  and  it 
turned  out  the  most  inexpensive  holiday  I  ever  took. 
As  we  had  to  start  early  in  the  morning,  and  to 
make  sure  of  being  in  readiness,  I  took  a  room  at  an 
inn  near  my  host's  house.  Between  anxiety  about 
being  up  in  time,  and  the  noise  of  some  baccha- 
nalians playing  at  "  Mora  "  in  an  adjoining  room,  I 
scarcely  got  a  wink  of  sleep,  and  felt  very  loath  to 
turn  out  at  six,  on  a  bitterly  cold  morning,  with  a 
north  wind  sharp  enough  to  shave  me,  to  walk  to 
the  railway-station,  acting  as  my  own  porter.  At 
the  station  another  companion  joined  us.  Three 
hours'  journey  in  a  third-class  carriage  in  the  cold 
and  darkness  was  not  a  pleasant  prospect,  but  I 
improved  the  time  by  finishing  my  night's  rest,  and 
only  awoke  on  our  arrival  at  Camerlata,  where  the 
sun  was  shining  bright  and  warm,  and  I  soon  forgot 
my  woes  in  the  delightful  balmy  atmosphere.  My 
host  laid  in  a  supply  of  comestibles  on  the  way  to 
Como,  where  we  took  a  small  boat,  and  crossed  the 
lake;  an  hour's  climb  landed  us  at  our  destination. 
A  sister  and  niece  of  the  professor  made  us  welcome, 
and  I  soon  found  myself  perfectly  at  home.  We 
remained  four  or  five  days  —  the  two  other  men  busy 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  S A  NT  LEY        109 

marking  trees  to  be  cut  down  for  timber,  and  I 
rambling  about  the  hills,  than  which,  for  me,  there 
is  no  greater  enjoyment.  The  weather  continued 
very  fine,  during  the  day,  from  ten  until  four,  like 
fine  spring  weather  in  England;  indeed,  when  the 
sun  was  high  it  was  more  like  summer.  I  regretted 
very  much  I  could  not  prolong  my  holiday;  but  I 
found  comfort  in  the  reflection  that  I  had  not  to 
return  to  an  office  stool.  The  brief  change  did  me 
good,  and  I  went  to  work  again  with  renewed 
vigour.  My  share  of  the  expenses,  including  rail- 
way- and  boat  fares,  amounted  to  eleven  and  a  half 
zwanzigers,  or  eight  shillings! 

I  seldom  allowed  a  day  to  pass  during  the  whole 
of  my  stay  in  Milan  without  paying  a  visit  to  the 
cathedral.  Frequently  I  attended  High  Mass  on 
Sunday.  As  I  had  been  accustomed  to  sing  in  the 
Catholic  church  at  home,  I  went  to  hear  the  music, 
but  I  remained  to  hear  the  sermon.  The  music  was 
shocking,  both  composition  and  execution ;  how  it 
could  be  tolerated  in  such  a  temple  I  could  not 
conceive.  The  conductor  was  a  great  nuisance. 
For  baton  he  used  a  piece  of  music  twice  doubled 
and  folded  flat,  with  which  he  beat  the  first  two 
beats  of  every  bar  on  the  book  in  front  of  him.  In 
a  quick  three-four  movement  the  constant  flip-flap 
engrossed  the  attention;  but  perhaps  that  was  provi- 
dential: the  wretched  singing  might  have  done 
worse !  The  sermon  I  always  enjoyed.  On  several 
occasions  I  heard  a  capuchin  monk,  a  handsome  man. 


110         REMINISCENCES    OF   CHARLES  SANTLEY 

with  expressive  mouth  and  eyes  full  of  the  fire  of 
enthusiasm.  He  had  a  rich,  sonorous,  and  well- 
modulated  voice;  he  was  a  master  of  elocution,  and 
his  enunciation  was  so  distinct  that,  even  in  that 
vast  area,  I  never  missed  a  word  of  his  sermon.  At 
times  he  would  make  a  sweep  from  one  end  to  the 
other  of  the  pulpit,  which  half  encircles  one  of  the 
great  columns  supporting  the  dome,  so  as  to  com- 
mand the  attention  of  the  whole  of  his  auditors.  He 
made  free  use  of  gesture,  which  was  always  noble 
and  elegant,  without  the  slightest  touch  of  theatrical 
display.  He  was  one  of  the  few  preachers  who  have 
left  a  lasting  impression  on  me.  I  hope  I  profited 
by  his  discourse ;  I  know  I  did  by  his  oratory. 

San  Carlo  and  Sant'  Ambrogio,  as  far  as  I  can 
recollect,  were  the  only  churches  at  which  full 
choral  Mass  was  performed  regularly  every  Sunday ; 
in  the  others,  except  on  the  feast-day  of  the  saint  to 
whom  the  church  was  dedicated,  there  was  seldom 
any  musical  performance  worthy  of  attention.  Gen- 
erally, the  organist  played  at  intervals  music  sup-, 
posed  to  be  appropriate  to  the  different  parts  of  the 
ceremony;  anything  more  inappropriate  than  what  I 
have  often  heard  it  would  be  difficult  to  imagine. 
Passing  the  Carmelites  one  day,  I  heard  the  sound 
of  the  organ,  and  entered.  About  twenty-five  girls 
were  receiving  confirmation;  the  organist  enlivened 
the  proceedings  with  selections  from  "La  Traviata." 
In  the  country-places,  all  attempt  at  propriety  was 
discarded;  the  organist  simply  played  whatever  he 


REMIXfSCENCES    OF   CHARLES   SANTLEY        111 

could  get  through,  sacred  or  profane.  I  have  heard 
the  favourite  galop  from  the  last  new  ballet  and  the 
last  movement  of  the  overture  to  "William  Tell" 
played  as  voluntaries.  At  Baveno  a  few  years  ago, 
on  the  occasion  of  a  wedding,  Mass  being  performed, 
at  the  Elevation  (the  most  solemn  moment)  we  were 
regaled  with  "  Largo  al  factotum "  from  "  II  Bar- 
biere  di  Siviglia"!  The  music  in  our  Catholic 
churches  at  home  would  bear  reformation,  the  exe- 
rution  generally  leaving  a  great  deal  to  be  desired; 
however,  we  try  to  find  compositions  appropriate  to 
the  solemnity  of  the  Holy  Sacrifice. 


CHAPTER   VIII 

Church  Festivals  and  their  Curious  Customs  —  Plum-pudding  at 
Barcelona  —  The  Feasts  of  San  Giorgio,  Sam?  Angelo,  and 
Corpus  Christ!  —  An  Impressive  Spectacle  —  My  Delight  in 
Open-air  Recreation  —  Milan  :  Palatial  and  Plebeian  —  The 
Best  View  of  the  Duoino  —  Sad  Accident  to  my  "Darlin'  Pair 
o'  Bags  "  —  Gluttony  and  its  Miseries  —  Advice  to  Singers  about 
Food  and  Drink  —  Trips  to  Monza  —  Anecdote  of  Some  English 
Excursionists — Performances  at  the  Conservatorio  —  Pollini's 
Opera  —  My  Friend  Eivetta  —  Our  Excursion  to  Lecco  —  Com- 
fortable Quarters  at  the  Croce  di  Malta  —  Demoralizing  Effect 
of  English  and  American  Travellers  on  Foreign  Hotels  —  I  turn 
Barber  —  Davide  Nava  and  the  Mountains  —  Visit  to  the 
Maranis. 

APAKT  from  the  religious  observance  of  Church 
festivals,  there  are  others,  sometimes  very  curious 
ones,  whose  connection  with  the  subject  of  the  festi- 
val would,  it  appears  to  me,  be  difficult  to  trace. 
What  has  plum-pudding  to  do  with  Christmas  Da}-? 
The  inventor  of  it  must  have  been  copper-lined,  or 
have  had  wicked  designs  upon  his  fellow-creatures. 
It  is  a  stodgy  complement  to  a  solid  dinner  of  roast 
beef  and  goose,  or  turkey  with  plenty  of  stuffing, 
sausages,  etc.  I  have  seen  a  clerical  gentleman 
dispose  of  about  a  couple  of  pounds  at  half-past  one 
lunch,  and,  after  a  walk  of  five  miles,  dine  at  live. 
He  exists  still,  a  living  wonder!  One  of  the  best 
112 


REMI.\'fSCEATCES    OF   CHARLES  SANTLEY        113 

plum-puddings  I  ever  partook  of  (mildly)  was  at 
the  Fonda  de  las  Cuatro  Xacioiies  at  Barcelona. 
It  was  made  by  an  Italian  cook,  who  had  evidently 
modified  the  recipe  given  him  by  an  English  trav- 
eller; it  did  not  require  a  "patent  digester"  to 
convert  it  into  wholesome  food  (chyle).  At  Easter, 
in  my  youthful  days,  before  digestive  pills  formed 
a  part  of  my  "domestic  economy"'  (perhaps  one  of 
the  reasons  for  requiring  them),  we  were  regaled 
with  "bun-loaf,"  a  baked  edition  of  plum-pudding, 
and  about  as  digestible. 

The  feast  of  San  Giorgio  (in  Milan)  was  kept  on 
bread-and-milk,  an  improvement,  as  far  as  digestion 
and  nourishment  are  concerned,  on  the  cloying 
Christmas  pudding.  The  feast  was  celebrated  in 
the  different  osterias  outside  the  city,  and  I  was 
conducted  to  one  enclosed  in  an  extensive  garden. 
On  entering  we  were  presented  with  a  Ixjwl  and 
spoon  each  for  our  use  whilst  we  remained.  We 
wandered  about  aimed,  until  one  attendant  filled 
our  bowls  with  milk,  and  another  handed  us  a  hunk 
of  bread,  whereupon  we  joined  in  the  revels.  The 
grounds  were  crowded,  everybody  laughing  and 
chatting  with  everybody  else,  no  introduction  nec- 
essary, all  the  time  plying  their  spoons,  as  if  pre- 
paring for  a  famine.  I  could  not  help  wondering 
what  my  parents  would  have  said,  could  they  have 
beheld  their  infant  distending  himself  with  bread- 
and-milk  (to  which  they  knew  he  was  not  partial), 
instead  of  consuming  the  evening  candle  over  his 


114         REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

studies.  There  were  only  a  few,  otherwise  indis- 
posable,  children ;  there  must  have  been  some  hun- 
dreds of  adults  assembled  in  that  place  alone. 

The  lay  observance  of  the  feast  of  Sant'  Angelo 
struck  me  as  being  still  more  curious.  From  dawn 
until  after  midnight  every  available  nook  and  cor- 
ner, every  piazza,  intra-  and  extra-mural,  was  cov- 
ered with  booths  and  stalls  piled  up  with  whistles 
of  every  description.  I  could  not  have  believed  it 
possible  to  produce  so  many  at  one  time.  Nobod}^ 
dreamt  of  being  satisfied  with  a  single  instrument 
(of  torture);  they  bought  sufficient  to  cram  their 
pockets,  besides  as  many  as  they  could  hold  in  their 
hands  and  between  their  jaws.  The  boys  seemed  to 
vie  with  each  other  in  stretching  their  mouths  so  as 
to  hold  and  perform  on  the  greater  number  at  once. 
In  the  quarter  of  Sant'  Angelo  the  traffic  was 
incredible  and  the  noise  excruciating.  The  "non- 
conformists "  were  all  provided  Avith  cotton -wool  to 
stop  their  ears;  I  was  advised  to  do  the  same,  but 
I  thought  it  was  a  joke,  and,  neglecting  the  pre- 
caution, had  to  adopt  the  more  inconvenient  and 
ineffectual  plan  of  jostling  my  way  through  the 
crowd  with  my  thumbs  stuffed  in  my  ears.  It  was 
worse  than  passing  through  an  avenue  of  trees 
infested  with  cicalas  on  a  hot  summer  day.  I  must 
confess  I  am  not  sufficient  of  a  poet  to  imagine 
what  connection  exists  between  whistles  and  Sant' 
Angelo. 

Turning  from  the  ridiculous  to  the  sublime,  the 


REMTNISCENCES    OF  CHARLES   SANT  LEV        115 

feasl  lit'  (Corpus  Christi  was  celebrated  with  great 
pomp.  On  that  day  and  the  two  following  all  shops 
were  closed  and  business  suspended.  Two  or  three 
days  previous  a  crowd  of  workmen  were  employed 
decorating  the  Duomo.  and  erecting  a  baldacckmo 
from  the  doors  to  those  of  Sant'  Ambrogio,  about 
half  a  mile  long.  Pontifical  high  mass  was  cele- 
brated in  the  presence  of  the  whole  clergy,  secular 
and  regular,  belonging  to  the  diocese,  and  a  crowd 
of  worshippers  and  spectators.  The  steps  and  a 
it  part  of  the  piazza  were  filled  with  people  who 
were  not  fortunate  enough  to  gain  admittance. 
Mass  ended,  the  clergymen  and  religious  orders. 
headed  by  the  Archbishop  bearing  the  Most,  the 
monsignori.  canons,  deacons,  and  sub-deacons,  fol- 
lowed by  the  united  bands  of  the  two  principal 
Austrian  regiments  and  a  vast  concourse  of  people, 
marched  in  solemn  procession  bareheaded  to  Sant' 
Ambrogio.  the  clergy  and  people  singing  the  hymn 
"  Pange  lingua,"  and  the  bands  playing  alternately. 
I  -aw  the  start,  and  taking  a  short  cut.  arrived,  at 
Sant'  Ambrogio  in  time  to  secure  a  place  in  the 
church.  The  procession  entered  by  the  cloisters, 
and  passed  slowly  along  the  nave,  and  out  at  the 
opposite  end:  as  the  band  followed,  they  played  the 
march  from  "II  Profeta."  It  was  the  most  imposing 
and  impressive  ceremony  I  ever  witnessed. 

Picture-galleries,  museums,  libraries,  or  exhibi- 
tions never  possessed  much  attraction  for  me.  I 
did  not  visit  the  Ambrosian  Library  nor  the  Brera 


116        REMINISCENCES    OF  CH 'AXLES  SANTLEY 

Galleries  until  I  returned  to  Milan  in  1865.  I 
delight  in  open-air  recreation,  of  which  I  had 
enjoyed  very  little  during  my  school  and  business 
days.  My  daily  routine  was  as  follows:  The  morn- 
ing I  devoted  to  study ;  about  mid-day  I  turned  out 
for  my  "constitutional,"  whatever  the  weather  might 
be.  Unless  very  wet,  I  made  my  round  of  the  bas- 
tions, and  generally  made  a  short  halt  at  the  Piazza 
d'Armi  to  rest  and  feast  my  eyes  on  the  grand  pano- 
rama of  the  mountains  about  the  Lake  of  Como, 
backed  by  the  snow-clad  peaks  of  the  loftier  moun- 
tains beyond.  In  the  foreground  I  had  the  "  Arco 
della  pace,"  which,  spite  of  its  artistic  beauty,  irri- 
tated me,  as  it  obstructed  in  some  measure  the  view 
of  what  gave  me  infinitely  more  pleasure.  In  the 
afternoon  I  had  a  lesson  three  times  a  week;  the 
other  days  I  did  some  work  at  home,  and  then 
amused  myself  strolling  about  the  city  for  a  couple 
of  hours,  avoiding  the  aristocratic  neighbourhoods, 
a  monotonous  series  of  stone  walls,  embellished  with 
occasional  grated  windows,  all  that  might  be  inter- 
esting being  hidden  from  the  public  gaze.  Many  of 
the  fine  mansions  (palazzi)  of  the  nobility  possess 
gardens  of  considerable  extent,  small  parks  in  fact, 
hardly  conceivable  in  a  city  built  so  compactl}r. 
Through  the  courtesy  of  a  lodge-keeper,  I  have  had 
my  curiosity  gratified  with  a  peep  at  one  or  two. 
My  favourite  haunts  were  the  plebeian  quarters, 
where  I  found  an  infinite  variety  of  entertainment: 
the  shops,  the  names  over  them,  the  wares  sold  in 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY        117 

them ;  the  odd  variety  of  articles  on  sale  at  the  same 
shop,  for  instance,  salt,  tobacco,  stamped  paper  and 
postage  stamps ;  the  stalls  of  fruit,  fried  fish,  polenta, 
roasted  chestnuts,  ices,  drinks  cold  or  hot,  accord- 
ing to  the  season,  haberdashery,  ironmongery,  toys, 
etc. ;  the  bargaining  between  buyer  and  seller,  often 
assisted  by  disinterested  lookers-on;  the  hunchbacks 
and  other  deformities,  for  which,  until  I  had  seen 
more  of  the  South  of  Europe,  I  imagined  Milan  held 
a  patent;  the  canal  boats  of  antediluvian  construc- 
tion; the  altercations,  which  I  always  expected  to 
end  in  murder,  and  were  all  sound  and  fury  signify- 
ing nothing.  One  thing  I  never  saw  during  my  two 
years'  residence,  neither  a  man  nor  a  woman  drunk. 

During  the  hot  weather  in  July  and  August  I 
used  to  rise  early,  from  five  to  half-past,  and  stroll 
about  in  the  public  gardens  until  breakfast-time; 
then,  in  the  afternoon,  I  took  a  siesta  before  dinner. 
As  the  days  grew  longer,  I  preferred  passing  the 
evening  in  the  fresh  air  rather  than  in  the  close 
atmosphere  of  a  theatre.  One  moonlight  night  I 
discovered,  or  think  I  did,  as  I  never  found  anyone 
else  wlio  had  noticed  it,  the  most  advantageous 
view  of  the  cathedral  I  know  —  from  the  bastions, 
almost  in  a  line  with  the  Conservatorio,  besides 
which,  and  a  few  small  dwelling-houses  nearer  the 
wails,  there  was  no  building  to  be  seen  except  the 
Duomo,  every  pinnacle  and  ornament  clearly  defined, 
and  white  as  snow. 

An  accident  happened  to  me  one  summer  morn- 


118        REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  S ANT  LEY 

ing  that  caused  me  no  little  grief  when  I  reflected  on 
my  limited  banking  account.  At  Easter  I  mounted 
a  "  darlin'  pair  o'  bags,"  as  Mickie  in  the  gallery  of 
the  Theatre  Royal,  Dublin,  remarked  to  the  late 
Charles  Mathews  on  the  stage  one  night:  "Them's 
a  darlin'  pair  o'  bags,  Charlie.  Who's  your  tailor?" 
They  were  of  a  light  colour,  and  designed  to  make 
hayoc  on  the  Corso  on  Easter  Sunday,  when  the 
female  sex  all  turn  out  in  their  best  "bibs  and 
tuckers."  A  month  or  two  of  wear  had  shadowed 
their  brightness;  they  were  sent  to  the  cleaners, 
who  returned  them  almost  restored  to  their  pristine 
splendour,  at  the  cost  of  some  three  shillings.  I 
went  to  breakfast  the  first  time  I  wore  them  again 
very  satisfied  with  my  "get-up."  I  ordered  a  ragout, 
with  macaroni  and  tomato  sauce.  It  looked  like  a 
juvenile  golden  sunset,  and,  oh,  what  a  bouquet! 
sufficiently  inviting  to  lead  an  anchorite  astray. 
Being  hungry,  I  fell  to  with  great  vigour ;  the  table 
was  covered  with  a  cloth,  and  I  had  not  remarked 
that  the  sides  were  hollowed  out,  and  my  plate  was 
simply  balanced  on  the  edge.  I  had  only  demolished 
half  my  breakfast,  when  I  made  a  dive  with  my  fork, 
and  overturned  my  plate  and  its  contents  into  my 
lap.  I  lost  the  tit-bits  I  had  reserved  for  the  last, 
the  golden  sunlight  illuminated  my  "darlin'  bags" 
in  a  most  unpleasant  fashion,  and  I  had  to  walk 
half-way  down  the  Corso  on  my  way  home,  a  subject 
of  merriment  to  an  unfeeling  crowd,  and  of  commis- 
eration to  myself. 


REMINISCENCES    OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY        119 

We  do  not  live  to  eat,  but  we  must  eat  to  live! 
We  do  not,  like  other  animals,  instinctively  choose 
one  aliment;  and  what  is  food  for  one  is  poison  for 
another,  so  it  behoves  each  of  us  to  observe  what 
quality  and  quantity  of  food  suits  us  best,  and 
adhere,  as  far  as  lies  in  our  power,  to  that  regime. 
That  this  study  is  neglected  there  is  abundant  proof 
in  the  innumerable  pills,  powders,  tablets,  and  mix- 
tures used  to  promote  and  aid  digestion.  How  often 
we  have  to  listen  to  the  complainings  of  the  "  martyr 
to  indigestion"!  I  have  been  a  so-called  martyr,  I 
can  therefore  speak  feelingly. 

The  following  remarks  I  especially  address  to  my 
young  brother  and  sister  singers.  How  the  voice  is 
produced  or  where,  except  that  it  is  through  the 
passage  of  the  throat,  is  unimportant;  it  is  reason- 
able to  say  that  the  passage  must  be  kept  clear, 
otherwise  the  sound  proceeding  from  it  will  not  be 
clear.  I  have  known  many  instances  of  singers 
undergoing  very  disagreeable  operations  on  their 
throats  for  chronic  diseases  of  various  descriptions ; 
now,  my  observation  and  experience  assure  me  that, 
in  ninety-nine  cases  out  of  a  hundred,  the  root  of 
the  evil  is  chronic  inattention  to  food  and  raiment. 
It  is  a  common  thing  to  hear  a  singer  say,  ''  I  never 
touch  such-and-siK-h  food  on  the  days  I  sing."  My 
dear  young  friend,  unless  you  are  an  absolute  idiot, 
you  would  not  partake  of  anything  on  the  days  you 
sing  which  might  disagree  with  you,  or  overtax  your 
digestive  powers :  it  is  on  the  days  you  do  not  sing 


120        REMINISCENCES   OF  CffAKLES  SANTLEY 

you  ought  more  particularly  to  exercise  your  judg- 
ment and  self-denial.  I  do  not  offer  the  pinched-up 
pilgarlic  who  dines  off  a  wizened  apple  and  a  crust 
of  bread  as  a  model  for  imitation;  at  the  same  time, 
I  warn  you  seriously  against  following  the  example 
of  the  gobbling  glutton  who  swallows  every  dish 
that  tempts  his  palate.  I  am  neither  philosopher 
nor  law-giver;  I  have  no  intention  of  laying  down 
rules  for  your  guidance.  Study  to  know,  and  adopt 
those  aliments  which  your  own  good  sense  will  sug- 
gest are  good  for  you  at  all  times  ;  protect  yourselves 
from  cold  or  damp,  but  beware  of  muffling  your- 
selves like  mummies;  avoid  talking  and  laughing 
in  the  cold  air,  especially  after  singing,  and  you 
will  not  need  to  trouble  the  doctor  much. 

People  often  ask  me,  do  I  believe  in  alcohol? 
As  it  exists,  more  or  less,  in  everything  I  eat  and 
drink,  I  am  bound  to  believe  in  it.  I  presume,  if 
they  would  speak  plainly,  they  would  ask  do  I 
drink  wine,  beer,  or  spirits?  Wine  and  beer  con- 
tain alcohol,  but  I  object  to  their  being  called  by 
that  name.  They  contain,  besides,  many  elements 
beneficial  to  the  human  system,  and  are  entitled  to 
an  important  place  among  foods.  Beer  I  never 
liked,  and  very  rarely  take.  Spirits  I  care  little 
for,  but  I  find  a  little  nightcap  soothing.  Wine  I 
like  very  much,  and  took  whenever  I  could  get  it, 
which  was  seldom  before  I  went  to  Italy;. since  then 
regularly,  both  at  lunch  and  dinner.  I  find  it  does 
me  good;  but  I  cannot  undertake  to  prescribe  for 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY        121 

others ;  I   leave  you  to  learn  and  adopt  what  your 
own  sense  will  suggest  is  good  for  you. 

I  used  occasionally  to  indulge  in  a  day's  relaxa- 
tion —  I  cannot  call  it  holiday,  for  every  day  was  to 
me  a  holiday  then  —  and  take  a  run  into  the  country, 
accompanied  by  one  or  both  of  the  young  Navas. 
Monza  was  our  favourite  resort;  it  is  a  pretty,  clean 
town;  the  cathedral  is  a  fine  church,  containing 
some  objects  of  interest,  among  the  rest  the  iron 
crown  with  which  Napoleon  I.  crowned  himself. 
The  greater  part  of  the  day  we  spent  in  the  royal 
park,  wandering  about  admiring  the  numerous  speci- 
mens of  plants  and  trees,  native  and  foreign,  or  loll- 
ing in  their  shade  enjoying  a  pleasant  chat.  About 
five  we  adjourned  to  an  inn,  and  after  a  good  dinner 
returned  home  in  the  cool  of  the  evening.  We  used 
to  hire  a  horse  and  trap  for  the  day,  which  cost  some 
five  shillings  and  the  horse's  feed;  one  of  us  drove, 
and  though  we  were  not  great  whips,  we  ran  no 
risks,  as  the  road  was  pretty  straight  and  level,  and 
the  horse  required  little  management  beyond  keeping 
him  on  his  legs.  It  was  not  an  extravagant  outing, 
the  whole  expenses  amounting  to  ten  or  eleven  shil- 
lings. My  English  friends  were  in  the  habit  of 
making  similar  excursions,  and  a  ludicrous  adven- 
ture happened  to  a  party  of  them  one  night  returning 
from  Pavia.  They  did  not  start  until  ten  o'clock, 
and,  as  the  roads  were  not  lighted  and  there  was  no 
moon,  they  had  to  drive  slowly;  suddenly  the  horse 
went  lame,  and  at  last  came  to  a  dead  stop;  one  of 


122        REMINISCEiVCES    OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

them  jumped  out  to  see  what  was  the  matter,  and  in 
doing'  so  kicked  something  lying  in  the  road,  which 
jingled  like  metal ;  he  stooped  and  picked  up  a 
horseshoe.  The  mystery  was  solved:  the  horse  had 
cast  a  shoe ;  and  so  they  all  dismounted  and  led  the 
poor  beast  until  they  came  to  a  forge.  After  half  an 
hour's  knocking  and  parleying  (it  was  then  past 
midnight)  the  blacksmith  came  down  and  prepared 
to  repair  the  damage,  when,  to  his  rage  and  the 
travellers'  astonishment,  he  found  all  four  shoes 
intact,  and  the  one  they  found  big  enough  for  a 
horse  twice  the  size  of  that  they  were  driving.  A 
stone  had  got  embedded  in  one  hoof,  which  caused 
the  animal's  distress.  It  was  speedily  removed,  and 
after  appeasing  the  smith's  wrath  with  a  few  zwan- 
zigers  they  started  afresh,  and  arrived  in  Milan  at 
six  in  the  morning. 

My  summer  work  terminated  with  the  close  of  the 
Conservatorio  for  the  vacation.  The  examinations 
occupied  some  days,  after  which  there  was  an  exhi- 
bition by  the  advanced  students,  vocal  and  instru- 
mental. Once  every  three  years  the  pupils  who 
were  leaving  to  commence  their  public  career  had  an 
opportunity  of  appearing  in  an  opera.  In  1856  an 
opera  was  expressly  written  by  Pollini  (one  of  the 
party  disturbed  by  the  police  at  the  "Pozzo," 
described  in  an  early  chapter),  entitled  "L'Orfanas 
vizzera,"  a  melodious,  unpretentious  work. 

The  principal  parts  were  sustained  by  Isabella 
Alba,  soprano,  L'Orfana;  Christoforo  Fabbris,  light 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY        123 

tenor,  the  lover;  Giuseppe  Limberti,  robust  tenor 
(as  there  was  no  baritone  sufficiently  advanced  to 
take  it),  his  rival;  and  Capponi,  bass,  a  hermit. 
The  chorus  consisted  of  the  younger  scholars,  and 
the  band  of  the  instrumental  students  and  their 
professors,  under  the  direction  of  Cavallini.  The 
opera,  followed  by  a  short  concert,  in  which  Luigia 
Perelli  and  others  performed,  was  given  three  times. 
I  was  present  twice,  and  was  much  pleased  with  the 
performance,  which,  on  the  whole,  was  highly  cred- 
itable. Isabella  Alba,  a  very  charming  singer  and 
intelligent  actress,  I  thought  was  destined  to  rise  to 
a  high  position,  but  an  affection  of  the  throat  com- 
pelled her  to  abandon  the  stage  after  a  short  career, 
when  she  married  Angeleri,  the  head  of  the  piano- 
forte school,  and  devoted  herself  to  teaching.  The 
t\vo  tenors  were  fair  singers,  but  being  in  bad  health, 
unfortunately,  could  not  do  themselves  justice ;  they 
both  sang  with  success  some  years  after  in  South 
America.  Of  Luigia  Perelli  and  Capponi  I  have 
already  spoken. 

I  had  several  acquaintances  among  those  who 
took  part  in  the  performances.  My  most  intimate 
was  Luigi  Rivetta,  flautist  and  pianist,  whom  I  con- 
,4;i;itly  met  at  Maranis',  where  he  took  part  in  our 
musical  entertainments.  He  M^as  one  of  the  best- 
tempered  individuals  I  ever  knew.  After  the 
excitement  attendant  on  the  breaking-up  had  sub- 
sided, he  and  I  arranged  to  take  a  little  trip;  he 
suggested  Lecco  as  an  inexpensive  place  within  our 


124         REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

means.  Accordingly  we  decided  on  passing  a  week 
there  together.  I  was  desirous  of  taking  a  longer 
holiday,  and  as  he  could  not  stay  more  than  a  week, 
I  arranged  with  Davide  Nava  to  join  me  as  my  guest 
for  a  day  or  two,  and  on  our  return  journey  spend 
the  remainder  of  an  additional  week  with  the  Maranis 
at  Desio,  where  they  had  a  country  residence.  Strict 
economy  being  necessary,  we  made  the  journey  from 
Milan  outside  the  coach,  a  rickety  machine  drawn 
by  three  bony  steeds ;  barring  the  dust  and  an  occa- 
sional shower  of  stones,  with  which  the  rude  young 
villagers  we  passed  on  the  road  saluted  us,  we 
enjoyed  a  very  pleasant  drive  for  half-a-crown  each. 
We  put  up  at  the  Croce  di  Malta,  a  good  old- 
fashioned,  rough-and-ready  inn;  the  bedrooms  scant- 
ily furnished  according  to  English  notions,  but 
perfectly  clean  and  comfortable.  They  would  have 
had  us  take  our  meals  in  the  "Sala,"  as  honoured 
guests,  but  we  preferred  the  lower  regions,  among 
the  familiars,  where  we  could  select  our  dishes  in 
the  raw  state  and  superintend  their  preparation,  and 
so  sharpen  our  appetites,  if  need  were,  with  the 
contemplation  of  the  delicacies  we  were  about  to 
consume.  We  had  more  fun,  too ;  we  were  soon  on 
familiar  terms  with  the  proprietor,  frequenters,  cook, 
household,  and  the  dog  that  turned  the  spit;  the 
cook  was  as  pleased  to  attend  to  our  elaborate 
instructions  as  we  were  with  his  attentions  to  our 
creature  comforts,  and  fed  us  well ;  the  master,  see- 
ing we  were  interested  in  and  satisfied  with  his 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY        125 

endeavours  to  please,  took  interest  in  us,  and  placed 
us  on  a  familiar  footing  with  regard  to  charges;  our 
expenses,  for  bed,  two  substantial  meals  with  wine, 
lights,  and  attendance,  did  not  exceed  five  zwanzi- 
gers  —  three  shillings  and  sixpence  per  day. 

I  have  done  a  fair  amount  of  travelling,  and  had 
much  experience  of  hotel  life  in  Europe,  America 
and  the  Australasian  colonies;  but  for  comfort  and 
good  living,  combined  with  economy,  I  never  fared 
so  well  as  in  Italy.  I  must  add,  however,  that 
latterly  English  and  American  travellers  have 
spoiled  the  large  hotels  in  the  principal  cities  to 
a  great  extent.  Three  years  ago  I  made  a  short 
hasty  tour  in  the  North  of  Italy.  At  Venice,  where 
I  arrived  after  the  table  d'hote  was  over,  as  I  wanted 
to  dine  immediately,  I  was  served  from  what  re- 
mained. Ox-tail  soup  and  roast  beef  and  Yorkshire 
pudding  are  very  good  fare  in  England,  but  who 
that  has  ever  eaten  a  good  Italian  dinner  could  relish 
ox-tail  soup  and  roast  beef  and  Yorkshire  pudding 
in  Venice?  I  remonstrated  with  the  waiter,  who 
told  me  my  countrymen  would  not  touch  Italian 
dishes,  so  it  was  useless  to  provide  them.  How- 
ever, he  made  amends  next  day;  at  his  instigation 
the  cook  sent  me  up  a  dinner  after  his  own  heart  — 
and  mine!  At  Bologna  nobody  in  the  hotel  knew 
the  names  of  ordinary  Italian  dishes  (the  cook  was 

«/  v 

not  Italian),  let  alone  how  to  prepare  them ;  and  at 
Florence  the  food  was  as  limited  in  quantity  as  it 
was  inferior  in  quality;  the  fowls  seemed  to  have 


126        REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  S A  NT  LEY 

been  born  with  half  a  dozen  legs  apiece,  and  reared 
on  pebbles. 

Except  one  very  wet  day,  we  were  out  in  the  open 
air  from  breakfast  until  dinner  time  on  the  lake ;  or 
roaming  about  the  hills,  or  visiting  the  spots  made 
famous  by  Manzoni  in  "I  Promessi  Sposi."  It  hap- 
pened to  be  the  time  of  the  "fiera,"  so  we  were  able 
to  while  away  the  evening  at  the  opera.  The  theatre 
was  very  pretty,  and  the  company  very  fair  for  a 
place  numbering  some  4,000  inhabitants;  the  admis- 
sion was  only  seventy-five  centimes,  with  a  small 
additional  fee  for  reserved  places.  I  have  heard  and 
taken  part  in  worse  performances,  although  with 
better  artists,  in  many  of  our  provincial  towns,  more 
than  ten  times  the  size  of  Lecco.  The  wet  day  we 
were  obliged  to  pass  in  doors,  as  it  rained  in  tor- 
rents ;  we  had  no  books  or  other  means  of  amusing 
ourselves ;  cards  I  abominate,  and  I  never  learned  to 
play  billiards.  Rivetta  was  a  smoker,  so  to  pass  the 
time  he  proposed  I  should  join  him  in  a  weed;  I  did 
not  like  to  attack  a  strong  Virginia,  and  procured  a 
couple  of  choice  Havanas  ("Regalia  de  Cabagio"), 
which  kept  me  employed  for  some  time;  we  had  still 
two  or  three  hours  to  get  through  before  dinner 
time,  so  as  my  friend  wanted  shaving,  and  could 
not  perform  the  operation  himself,  I  proposed  that 
I  should  do  it  for  him.  After  some  demur  he  sub- 
mitted; he  had  a  nice  fat  face  suitable  for  a  first 
attempt,  but  I  suppose  I  must  have  been  slightly 
nervous,  for,  in  finishing  off  the  first  side,  I  managed 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY        127 

to  take  off  a  slice  of  cheek;  he  would  not  allow  me 
to  proceed,  and  as  he  could  not  appear  at  dinner 
"half  done,"  he  ran  over  to  the  barber's  to  have 
his  wound  plastered  and  the  other  side  shaved.  I 
had  the  taste  of  choice  Havana  in  my  mouth  all 
day,  and  dreamt  I  was  making  a  meal  of  it  in  the 
night,  which  put  me  off  smoking  for  some  years. 
I  have  never  tried  to  shave  anyone  except  myself 
since. 

At  the  week's  end  Rivetta  left  me  and  Nava 
joined  me.  He  had  never  been  near  mountains  or 
on  the  water  before,  and  lived  in  the  constant  dread 
of  being  crushed  by  the  one  or  drowned  in  the  other. 
He  was  struck  with  astonishment  at  the  sight  of  a 
barge  with  her  only  sail  set,  making  about  two  knots 
an  hour,  and  asked  me  if  we  had  such  large  vessels 
at  Liverpool.  I  am  afraid  I  was  somewhat  cruel  to 
him;  he  was  not  shod  for  mountain  climbing,  and 
preferred  mooning  about  in  a  caffe";  however,  I 
induced  him  to  accompany  me  part  of  the  way  up 
.Monte  Bara;  he  was  greatly  impressed  with  the 
scenery,  which  he  acknowledged  amply  repaid  him 
for  the  fatigue  he  underwent. 

According  to  promise,  we  stopped  at  Desio.  The 
Maranis  had  a  number  of  mutual  acquaintances  stay- 
ing at  their  house ;  there  were  no  walkers  among 
tin-in,  so  by  day  I  had  to  be  my  own  companion;  in 
the  evening  we  sang,  danced,  or  played  round  games 
of  cards  or  dominoes ;  the  few  days  we  spent  there 
made  an  agreeable  finish  to  our  little  holiday. 


128        REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

The  last  time  I  met  Rivetta,  he  was  conducting 
a  very  good  orchestra  at  the  Caffd  Cova,  in  Milan. 
Davide  Nava  died  of  consumption  a  few  years  after 
I  returned  to  England. 


CHAPTER   IX 

Efforts  to  obtain  Work  —  Engagement  at  Pavia  —  A  Conceited 
Tenor  and  a  Cross-grained  Baritone  —  I  escort  an  Aged  Secunda 
Donna  —  A  Skittish  Landlady  —  I  appear  in  the  "Traviata'' 
and  "  Ernani  "  — My  Wardrobe  —  Failure  of  "  Lamberto  Mala- 
testa" — A  Stormy  First-night  and  a  Disastrous  Sequel  —  The 
Mayor  proves  a  Friend  in  Need  —  Christmas  Day  at  Pavia:  a 
Hospitable  Landlord  —  The  Medical  Student  and  the  Raw  Veal 
Cutlet  —  Hotels,  Old  and  New. 

MY  holiday  time  had  now  come  to  an  end ;  I  had 
to  turn  my  attention  seriously  to  business.  Before 
the  vacation  I  had  sung  to  Bonola,  the  principal 
agent,  in  the  hope  of  securing  an  engagement;  the 
theatres  for  which  he  catered,  however,  were  beyond 
my  capabilities,  consequently  I  had  to  aim  lower. 
A  lady  who  was  about  to  make  her  ddbut  at  Pavia 
the  ensuing  Carnival,  and  with  whom  I  had  sung 
occasionally  at  a  friend's  house,  hinted  at  the  possi- 
bility of  my  being  engaged  at  the  same  theatre.  I 
called  upon  the  agent  who  was  forming  the  company, 
and  sang  Zaccaria's  air  from  "  Nabucco, "  accompa- 
nied by  my  master,  whom  I  left  to  hear  the  result.  I 
felt  much  disappointed  and  depressed  when  he  told 
me  the  agent  did  not  approve  either  of  my  voice  or 
my  singing.  I  could  not  expect  my  father  would 

129 


130        REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

supply  me  with  any  more  money,  and  as  my  funds 
were  fast  dwindling  away,  I  began  to  feel  my  posi- 
tion was  growing  desperate.  I  did  not  know  then, 
and  I  believe  never  shall  know,  the  tricks  of  the 
trade.  After  a  week  or  two  of  suspense,  I  had  the 
felicity  of  signing  my  first  engagement,  not  a  fat 
one,  barely  enough  to  subsist  on,  but  I  was  truly 
thankful  for  it.  The  terms  were  three  hundred 
/ \vanzigers  (about  ten  guineas)  and  half  a  clear 
benefit;  the  Carnival  lasted  seven  weeks,  and  I  had 
to  be  at  Pavia  two  weeks  before  for  the  rehearsals. 
Salaries  were  paid  in  four  quarters;  the  first  on 
arrival,  the  second  after  the  third  performance,  the 
third  on  completion  of  half  the  season,  and  the  fourth 
three  days  before  the  close  of  the  engagement.  The 
benefits  were  to  be  taken  in  rotation,  beginning  with 
the  prima  donna  and  ending  with  the  bass.  The 
theatre  at  Pavia  would  have  been  handsome  if  taste- 
fully decorated ;  being  entirely  constructed  of  stone, 
it  was  difficult  to  sing  in;  the  stage  was  not  over- 
clean  and  the  dressing-rooms  were  like  pigsties,  a 
common  fault  in  almost  all  the  theatres  I  have  had 
anything  to  do  with.  It  is  strange  so  little  atten- 
tion should  be  bestowed  on  the  health  and  comfort 
of  those  on  whose  work  artistic  and  pecuniary  success 
both  depend. 

There  were  only  three  operas  to  be  given  during 
the  season,  "  La  Traviata  "  and  "  Ernani "  (Verdi), 
and  a  new  opera  written  and  composed  expressly  by 
two  students  of  the  university,  entitled  "  Lamberto 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY        131 

Malatesta."  The  lady  I  mentioned  was  our  prima 
donna,  and  proved  very  successful;  at  the  close  of 
the  season  she  married  a  gentleman  of  Pavia  and 
gave  up  the  profession.  The  last  opera  required  two 
"prime  donne,"  for  which  another  lady  was  engaged; 
being  somewhat  passe'e,  her  efforts  were  not  appreci- 
ated. There  was  no  contralto  part  in  any  of  the 
operas.  Our  tenor  was  the  most  conceited  donkey 
I  ever  encountered,  and  I  have  met  with  some  fair 
specimens.  Had  the  baritone  and  I  changed  places, 
it  would  have  been  the  better  for  both  of  us;  but  he 
was  averse  to  coming  down,  and  I  afraid  of  going 
up,  so  we  kept  to  the  colours  we  had  chosen.  He 
could  not  sustain  the  baritone  register  in  Verdi's 
operas,  though  he  was  a  fair  singer.  After  we  had 
played  the  "  Traviata  "  a  few  nights  his  voice  gave 
way,  and  I  was  asked  by  the  manager  to  take  his 
place,  in  order  to  avoid  closing  the  theatre.  I  had 
heard  the  music  performed  and  rehearsed  so  often 
that  I  already  knew  the  part  fairly  well;  however,  I 
declined  to  sing  it  unless  requested  by  the  baritone 
himself.  I  called  to  see  him,  and,  after  a  few 
unpleasant  remarks,  he  told  me  I  could  not  sing  it. 
I  was  nettled,  and  I  determined  to  prove  he  was 
wrong.  I  sang  it  the  same  evening,  and  obtained 
such  a  success  that  the  manager  desired  me  to  sup- 
plant him  altogether,  and  take  the  part  of  Carlo 
Quinto  in  "Ernani."  This  I  would  not  listen  to  — 
he  was  a  struggling  beginner  like  myself;  we  were 
good  friends,  and  I  did  not  feel  inclined  to  assist  in 


132        REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

any  tricks  to  get  rid  of  him.  He  did  not  attempt 
Carlo  Quinto,  so  another  baritone  was  expressly 
engaged  for  the  part;  this 'was  the  only  member  of 
our  company  that  ever  appeared  in  London,  where  I 
saw  him  at  the  end  of  1857  at  St.  James's  Theatre, 
during  a  season  of  Italian  "opera  buffa,"  of  which 
Alberto  Randegger  acted  as  conductor.  "\Ve  had 
also  a  second  lady,  who  looked  fifty,  and  said  she 
was  not  out  of  her  "teens";  a  second  tenor,  and  a 
second  bass,  who  used  to  recount  to  me  in  confidence 
his  numerous  triumphs  in  buffo  parts.  His  appear- 
ance was  anything  but  jovial ;  indeed,  he  seemed  as 
though  "Melancholy  had  marked  him  for  her  own  "! 
The  chorus,  except  three  ladies  from  Milan,  was 
native,  and  the  orchestra  was  composed  chiefly  of 
semi-professionals  —  the  principal  oboe  was  a  student 
of  law. 

The  "secunda  donna"  and  I  journeyed  by  the 
same  diligence  from  Milan  to  Pavia,  she  an  inside 
and  I  an  outside  passenger.  I  had  been  introduced 
to  her  by  my  landlady,  whose  comrade  she  had  been 
in  her  professional  days;  if  her  own  statement  of 
her  age  had  been  correct,  she  must  have  been  a  baby 
in  arms  when  she  made  her  debut.  My  landlady. 
with  a  knowing  twinkle  in  her  eye,  begged  me  to 
take  care  of  her  on  the  journey,  though  I  thought  it 
would  have  been  more  natural  for  her  to  take  care  of 
me,  seeing  she  looked  old  enough  to  be  my  grand- 
mother. She  was  evidently  relieved  from  great 
anxiety  on  my  account  when  she  found  we  were  to 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY        133 

be  separated;  I  was  delighted,  though  I  hypocriti- 
cally concealed  my  joy.  Her  appearance  was,  to  say 
the  least,  grotesque.  I  could  not  help  fancying  her 
hip-joints  had  grown  outside  the  flesh;  they  turned 
out  to  be  two  flat-irons,  which,  to  save  room  in  her 
trunk,  she  was  in  the  habit  of  carrying  attached  to 
the  waistband  of  her  petticoat  under  her  dress  when 
travelling.  On  our  arrival  at  Pavia  they  were  pro- 
duced at  the  barber's,  where  she  lodged,  amid  a 
great  deal  of  blushing  and  giggling. 

I  took  a  room  in  the  house  of  a  respectable  lady, 
another  lambkin,  who  had  seen  some  sixty  summers. 
She  was  a  dark-complexioned,  shrivelled  little  being, 
with  jet-black  hair  so  like  a  horse's  tail  that  it 
reminded  me  of  the  sofa-coverings  of  my  youth. 
She,  too,  evident!}*  feared  the  power  of  her  attrac- 
tions on  me.  Her  coyness  highly  amused  me,  but  I 
seldom  had  the  chance  of  enjoying  a  bit  of  fun  at 
her  expense,  as  she  objected  to  receive  me  "  en  tete- 
a-tete,''  on  account  of  the  danger  to  our  youthful 
hearts.  Her  name  was  Lttigia  (I  forget  what). 
Once  when  I  told  her  Luigia  was  one  of  nvy  most 
favourite  names,  she  was  so  startled  she  nearly 
tumbled  into  the  fireplace.  My  room  was  on  the 
ground-floor,  and  seldom  cheered  by  the  sun's  rays ; 
the  weather  was  bitterly  cold,  and  we  had  snow  at 
times,  knee-deep.  I  preferred  passing  my  evenings 
at  home,  and  tried  lighting  a  fire,  to  make  myself 
comfortable,  but  I  had  to  open  the  door  and  windows 
to  avoid  being  suffocated  with  smoke,  so  after  a  few 


134        REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

nights  I  reluctantly  availed  myself  of  a  snug  corner 
at  the  caffd. 

AVe  commenced  the  rehearsals  of  the  "Traviata," 
in  which  I  was  to  make  my  de"but  as  the  "  Doctor  " 
immediately.  They  were  numerous,  long,  and  irri- 
tating from  the  small  amount  of  earnestness  dis- 
played by  the  singers,  excepting  the  prima  donna. 
I  had  very  little  to  do,  and  soon  grew  weary  of  going 
over  the  same  few  bars  twice  a  day.  On  account 
of  the  absence  of  the  students  during  the  vacation, 
we  did  not  open  until  the  1st  of  January,  1857,  by 
which  time,  to  my  astonishment,  although  we  must 
have  had  between  thirty  and  forty  rehearsals,  we 
were  all  ready.  First  nights  I  have  always  found 
depressing;  unless  I  am  engaged  in  the  performance 
I  always  avoid  them.  On  this  occasion  I  had  no 
fear  on  my  own  account;  I  had  no  responsibility, 
but  I  was  very  anxious  about  my  nervous  comrades. 
I  had  not  a  hair  on  my  face,  and,  when  made  up, 
looked  more  like  a  youthful  page  than  a  staid  doctor, 
spite  of  my  sombre  costume. 

The  audience,  a  very  capricious  one,  expressed 
their  satisfaction  with  vigorous  applause ;  the  "  prima 
donna,"  who  sang  and  acted  the  part  of  Violetta 
very  well,  at  once  established  herself  as  a  favourite, 
a  position  she  maintained  and  strengthened  as  the 
season  advanced;  the  tenor  "got  through";  the  bari- 
tone showed  he  possessed  talent,  though  the  music 
was  too  high  for  him.  Whilst  he  was  indisposed  I 
sang  the  part  of  GLermont  (father)  three  nights,  after 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY        135 

which  the  tenor  induced  me  to  join  him  in  sending 
a  notice  of  our  success  to  a  musical  journal  in 
Florence,  his  native  place,  in  which,  for  the  sum  of 
five  francs,  my  share  of  the  cost  of  insertion,  I 
figured  as  the  legitimate  successor  to  Tamburini. 
In  "  Enian i"  I  essayed  the  role  of  Don  Silva.  The 
costumes  were  provided  by  the  manager,  but  the 
small  articles  of  dress  we  had  to  find.  1  laid  in  a 
stock  in  Milan,  which  consisted  of  one  imitation 
lace  and  one  plain  linen  collar;  two  ballet  shirts; 
one  black  and  one  white  ostrich  feather:  one  pair 
black  and  one  pair  white  silk,  and  one  pair  red 
worsted  tights;  a  pair  of  black  velvet  shoes;  and 
a  pair  of  shiny  leather  leggings,  fitting  on  my  ordi- 
nary walking  boots  to  imitate  high  boots,  all  of 
which,  except  the  red  tights,  I  pressed  into  the 
service  of  Don  Silva.  The  barter  made  me  up  very 
red,  as  he  said  I  must  look  like  a  fiery  old  gentle- 
man. At  first  I  wore  a  moustache  and  imperial, 
held  by  elastics  round  my  ears,  but  they  felt  very 
insecure.  I  was  afraid  of  swallowing  them  even- 
time  I  opened  my  mouth  wide,  and  I  did  not  approve 
of  the  mark  the  elastic  left  on  my  face,  so  I  resorted 
to  ordinary  gum  (spirit  gum  was  not  known  there); 
washing  it  off  scarified  my  lips,  but,  finding  it 
safer,  I  suffered  in  silence.  I  do  not  know  what 
impression  my  singing  made  on  the  audience,  not 
unfavourable,  I  think,  as  they  applauded  me  when 
opportunity  occurred;  but  I  feel  sure  they  must 
have  found  ample  fond  for  merriment  in  my  repre- 


136        REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

sentation  of  a  Spanish  grandee.  Dick,  Tom  and 
Harry  were  not  photographed  in  those  days  as  they 
are  now;  besides,  I  doubt  whether  there  was  a 
photographer  in  Pavia,  or  I  might  be  able  to  amuse 
myself  and  friends  still  with  my  "make  up." 

The  third  opera,  "Lamberto  Malatesta,"  came  to 
grief.  The  libretto  was  not  bad,  but  the  music  was 
wretched.  We  had  plenty  of  rehearsals,  but  the 
tenor  never  learned  the  third  act,  and  had  but  a  hazy 
notion  of  the  first  and  second.  The  season  was 
drawing  to  a  close,  but  the  managers  were  bound  to 
fulfil  their  obligations  to  the  subscribers,  and  the 
opera  had  to  be  performed,  perfect  or  imperfect. 
Being  the  work  of  two  students,  nobody  doubted 
that  their  schoolfellows  would  ensure  its  favourable 
reception;  but  students,  comrades  though  they  be, 
are  not  to  be  conciliated  with  chaff;  there  must  be  a 
few  grains  of  wheat  mingled  with  it.  Throughout 
the  first  two  acts  the  rumblings  of  an  approaching 
tempest  grew  louder  and  more  frequent ;  the  curtain 
fell  on  the  second  amid  tumultuous  expressions  of 
disapprobation;  at  the  commencement  of  the  third  I 
was  discovered  in  the  centre  of  the  stage  between 
the  rival  prime  donne ;  each  had  a  short  passage 
to  sing,  which  was  uproariously  applauded  by  her 
partisans  and  outrageously  hooted  by  her  enemies. 
The  storm  then  burst  in  all  its  fury.  For  twenty 
minutes  we  stood  unable  to  proceed  with  the  opera; 
at  length,  finding  there  was  no  possibility  of  restor- 
ing order,  the  Commissioner  of  Police  came  round 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY        137 

from  the  front  and  ordered  the  curtain  to  be  lowered ; 
he  very  politely  expressed  deep  regret  that  we  should 
have  been  subjected  to  such  violent  treatment,  and 
dismissed  us.  The  sequel  threatened  to  be  most 
disastrous;  my  benefit  did  not  come  off;  the  sub- 
scribers would  not  be  satisfied  with  the  reproduction 
of  the  "Traviata"  and  "Ernani,"  nor  was  there  time 
to  prepare  another  opera;  the  managers  made  this 
an  excuse  for  not  disbursing  the  last  quarter's  pay. 
What  was  to  be  done?  After  various  suggestions, 
the  baritone  and  I  agreed  to  wait  on  the  Mayor  and 
plead  for  his  intercession.  We  found  him  at  home, 
a  very  genial,  kind-hearted  old  gentleman.  He  lis- 
tened patiently  to  our  story,  and  requested  us  to 
rail  again  in  the  evening,  by  which  time  he  would 
arrange  what  he  could  do  on  our  behalf.  On  our 
return  he  informed  us  that  there  were  four  or  five 
masked  balls  still  due  to  the  subscribers,  which 
would  also  be  a  source  of  great  profit  to  the  mana- 
gers :  he  had,  therefore,  sent  them  notice  that, 
unless  all  money  due  to  the  singers  and  others 
employed  in  the  opera  were  paid,  and  their  acknowl- 
edgment sent  to  him  by  twelve  o'clock  next  day,  the 
police  would  not  allow  the  theatre  to  be  reopened 
that  season.  The  order  was  complied  with,  we  were 
all  paid,  and,  after  calling  to  thank  our  friend  in 
need,  I  returned  to  Milan. 

My  first  Christmas  Day  in  Italy  I  spent  alone  at 
Milan.  Except  the  respective  waiters  at  the  caffe 
where  I  breakfasted,  and  the  osteria  where  I  dined, 


138         REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

I  did  not  speak  to  a  human  being  the  whole  day.  I 
had  a  solitary  walk  in  the  afternoon,  dined  alone, 
returned  home,  and  read  until  bed-time.  My  second 
I  spent  more  socially  at  Pavia.  The  landlord  of  the 
inn  where  I  dined  regularly  invited  me  and  any 
others  of  the  frequenters  who  were  not  otherwise 
engaged  to  eat  our  Christmas  dinner  with  him. 
Everybody  belonging  to  the  household  sat  down  to 
table  with  us,  from  the  landlord  to  the  stable-boy; 
the  cook  joined  us  during  the  intervals  when  his 
presence  in  the  kitchen  was  not  necessary,  the  land- 
lord's sons  and  daughters  waited  on  us.  Dish 
succeeded  dish,  until  I  found  my  waistcoat  grow- 
ing uncomfortably  small.  There  was  abundance  of 
excellent  wine  of  various  kinds  from  the  vineyards 
on  the  other  side  of  the  Ticino,  to  which  all  were 
free  to  help  themselves  without  restriction  as  to 
quantity;  yet  not  one  indulged  in  the  slightest 
excess.  The  food  was  of  first-rate  quality,  well 
cooked ;  and  the  "  made  "  dishes  cunningly  prepared 
to  tempt  the  most  delicate  appetite.  It  was  a  bonny 
feast,  given  with  a  welcome  that  would  have  glad- 
dened the  heart  of  the  veriest  churl;  it  was  no  spurt 
to  inveigle  guests.  The  daily  table,  although  less 
elaborate,  was  equally  well  served;  there  were  always 
ample  rations  of  the  best  kind  at  a  small  cost.  For 
my  dinner,  with  a  pint  of  good  wine,  I  paid,  except 
on  rare  occasions,  from  lOd.  to  Is.  True,  the  tables 
were  of  plain  deal,  the  table-cloths  and  napkins  were 
of  coarse  linen ;  but  they  were  invariably  clean  when 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY        139 

we  sat  down  to  dine.  The  medical  students  were 
fond  of  airing  their  scientific  knowledge  with  regard 
to  aliment.  A  young  curly-headed  philosopher, 
fresh  from  a  lecture  in  which  the  professor  had 
touched  on  the  digestibility  of  flesh-meat,  entered 
one  day,  and.  with  an  air  of  great  wisdom,  ordered 
a  veal  cutlet,  raw.  to  be  served  up  with  oil,  vinegar, 
and  fine  herbs  —  a  cannibalistic  order  which  made  us 
all  stare.  The  cutlet  came.  It  could  not  see,  or  it 
would  have  pitied  the  poor  }'outh  making  desperate 
efforts  to  hide  his  nausea ;  but  it  conquered !  After 
bolting  a  few  small  mouthfuls  he  had  to  throw  up 
the  sponge,  and,  with  a  pale  countenance,  acknowl- 
edge his  defeat.  I  need  hardly  say  for  some  time  he 
was  a  butt  for  the  shafts  of  his  companions'  playful 
sarcasm. 

I  presume  modern  taste  and  the  exigencies  of 
increase  of  traffic  and  speed  of  travelling  necessitate 
the  change  which  has  been  made  in  hotels  of  late 
years :  yet  I  cannot  but  regret  the  gradual  disappear- 
ance of  quiet,  comfortable  hostelries  I  used  to  fre- 
quent—  most  of  them  have  either  been  demolished, 
or  else  so  modernized  as  to  be  no  longer  recognizable. 
Hotel-keeping  is  a  business,  and  one  ought  not  to 
murmur  if  it  is  managed  strictly  on  business  prin- 
ciples; but  I  miss  the  host's  cheerful  welcome  and 
attentions,  and  I  do  not  find  in  modern  hotels  any 
compensation  for  their  loss.  Nearly  all  our  large 
railway  stations  are  fronted  by  hotels;  I  do  not  find 
that  any  means  whatever  are  adopted,  or  even  tried, 


HO        REMIAVSCEffCES    OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

to  deaden  the  noise  of  the  rolling  of  trains  and 
screeching  of  engine-whistles!  The  traveller  is  still 
annoyed  by  the  porter  thundering  at  the  door  of  a 
neighbour  starting  by  an  early  train ;  surely  it 
would  not  be  difficult  to  contrive  a  plan  for  abolish- 
ing this  nuisance!  If  he  arrive  late  at  night  and 
hungry,  most  probably  he  will  have  to  be  content 
with  the  hacked  remains  of  a  cold  joint,  or  a  limb 
of  a  dried-up  fowl;  or  perhaps  with  nothing  more 
than  a  dry  biscuit  and  a  glass  of  spirits,  or  go  to  bed 
fasting.  If  he  wants  a  bath,  he  must  wait  while  the 
chambermaid  or  porter  prepares  it,  and  pay  Is.  <>d. 
or  2s.  for  it.  If  he  drinks  wine,  he  must  pav  an 
exorbitant  price  for  it;  and  the  contents  of  the 
bottles  are  not  always  accurately  described  on  the 
labels.  He  must  pay  attendance  charged  in  his  bill, 
and  fee  the  waiter  and  chambermaid  besides. 

Advancement  in  extent  of  accommodation  ought 
to  be  accompanied  by  proportionate  advancement  in 
appliances  for  the  traveller's  comfort  and  repose, 
and  in  the  regulation  of  the  scale  of  charges  accord- 
ing to  the  entertainment  he  receives. 


CHAPTER    X 

Kf  turn  to  Milan  —  A  Memorable  Masked  Ball  —  A  Generous  Agent 
—  Offer  of  an  Engagement  at  Padua:  a  Foolish  Refusal  —  Dark 
Days  and  Short  Commons  —  Suicidal  Thoughts  —  A  Welcome 
Engagement  —  A  Kind-hearted  Prima  Donna  —  I  throw  up  my 
Kii.iragement  —  Arrival  of  Supplies  from  Home  —  Offer  of  a  Five 
Years'  Engagement  —  A  Trump  of  a  Landlady  —  Good-natured 
but  Irritating  Friends  —  Adverse  Criticisms  of  Xava  —  Declama- 
tion, True  and  False  —  Matters  read)  a  Crisis  —  Xo  E 
ments  forthcoming  —  Visit  from  Henry  F.  Chorley  —  His  Appear- 
ance and  Prejudices  —  He  urges  me  to  return  to  England  —  His 
Kindness  and  Generosity  —  A  Tedious  Journey  —  Home  again. 


to  my  old  quarters,  where  1  arranged 
to  board  and  occupy  a  single  room  for  one  hundred 
zwanzigers  a  month.  I  had  little  more  than  one 
hundred  zwanzigers  in  my  possession,  seventy-rive 
of  which  I  handed  to  my  landlady  on  account  of  my 
first  month's  board  and  lodging.  I  called  immedi- 
ately upon  the  friends  through  whose  instrumen- 
tality, indirectly,  I  obtained  my  engagement;  they 
were  going  to  a  masked  ball  at  the  Scala,  and  pressed 
me  to  accompany  them.  I  tried  to  excuse  myself; 
I  felt  too  depressed  with  the  dismal  prospect  before 
me  to  be  inclined  to  make  merry,  and  it  was  hard  to 
part  with  five  zwanzigers  out  of  my  limited  store. 
However,  false  shame  prevented  me  acknowledging 

141 


142         REMINISCENCES    OF   CHARLES   SANTLEY 

my  position,  and  1  joined  them.  The  Emperor  and 
Empress  of  Austria,  accompanied  by  the  Emperor 
and  Empress  of  Mexico,  were  present.  The  theatre 
was  "illuminate  a  giorno"  (illuminated  to  day- 
light); and  when  the  imperial  party  entered  their 
box,  a  shower  of  small  parachutes  of  various  hues, 
weighted  with  packets  of  bonbons,  descended  from 
the  gallery,  and  were  eagerly  seized  by  the  crowd 
below.  The  costumes  of  the  maskers  were  more 
than  ordinarily  striking,  and  the  band  played  exqui- 
sitely, forming  altogether  a  brilliant  and  interesting 
spectacle.  I  forgot  my  troubles  in  the  contemplation 
of  the  lively  scene,  though  not  for  long.  I  was 
tired  after  my  journey,  and  distressing  thoughts 
would  obtrude  themselves,  spite  of  the  distractions 
around  me;  so  I  retired  early. 

My  living  was  secure  for  three  weeks,  and  I  had 
still  a  little  money  in  my  pocket,  out  of  which  I 
hired  a  piano,  paying  a  month  in  advance,  so  that  I 
might  continue  my  studies.  I  believed  I  had  made 
a  step  in  my  career  —  albeit  a  small  one  —  and  I 
determined  to  do  my  best  to  conquer  difficulties 
which  at  that  time  I  feared  were  almost  insurmount- 
able. My  voice,  though  clear  and  sonorous,  was  not 
of  sufficient  volume  to  satisfy  agents  and  others  to 
whom  I  looked  for  engagements.  I  sometimes  felt 
thoroughly  disheartened,  and  inclined  to  give  up  all 
thought  of  making  a  name;  yet,  when  I  called  to 
mind  instances  such  as  I  have  cited  of  singers  whose 
position  was  the  result  of  artistic  execution  and  feel- 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY        143 

ing,  not  power  of  voice,  I  resolved  to  make  them  mv 
models,  and,  as  far  as  lay  in  my  power,  follow  in 
their  footsteps.  The  agent  from  whom  I  received 
my  engagement  for  Pavia  gave  me  great  encourage- 
ment. I  owed  him  his  commission  —  fifteen  zwan- 
zigers.  I  asked  for  some  money  from  home,  which 
was  refused.  I  then  parted  with  some  of  my  worldly 
goods  to  my  Italian  uncle  (and  was  considerably 
done  by  the  friend  who  transacted  the  business), 
and  called  to  pay  my  debts.  I  was  very  much  taken 
aback  by  his  kindness;  he  told  me,  if  I  were  in 
want  of  money,  lie  was  quite  content  to  wait  until  I 
could  pay  him  without  inconveniencing  myself,  and, 
which  gave  me  much  greater  satisfaction,  that  he 
had  seen  me  twice  or  thrice  in  "Ernani,"  and  was 
much  pleased  with  my  performance.  He  then  offered 
me  an  engagement  for  a  month  at  Padua,  which, 
after  looking  through  the  operas  to  be  performed, 
and  finding  some  passages  in  one  of  them,  as  I 
thought,  too  high  for  me,  I  declined.  I  acted  very 
foolishly,  I  admit,  but  I  feared  being  over-venture- 
some with  a  public  so  ready  to  give  expression  to  its 
feelings. 

The  three  succeeding  months  were  a  time  of  great 
trial.  I  had  only  myself  to  blame,  for  I  might  have 
made  the  money  sent  me  go  much  further  than  I  did. 
I  was  not  extravagant  on  my  own  account,  but  my 
companions  cost  me  more  than  I  was  justified  in 
spending.  I  continued  visiting  the  Maranis,  but  I 
did  not  let  them  know  my  position,  or,  I  feel  sure, 


144         REMINISCENCES    OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

from  the  unvarying  kindness  with  which  they  treated 
me,  they  would  have  helped  me  out  of  my  difficul- 
ties. I  confided  in  one  person  only,  who  had  several 
times  offered  me  assistance  in  case  I  ever  found  my- 
self in  need  of  it;  I  asked  him  to  lend  me  a  very 
small  sum  to  enable  me  to  pay  the  hire  of  some 
music  I  wished  to  study,  which  he  made  some  lame 
excuse  for  refusing.  My  board  was  frugal:  a  cup 
of  coffee  and  milk  for  breakfast  at  nine,  dinner  at 
four  —  a  fair  repast,  but  scarcely  solid  enough  for 
such  a  hungry  stomach  as  mine ;  occasionally  I  sup- 
plemented it  with  a  roll  before  turning  in  at  night. 
One  Sunday,  returning  from  the  caffe"  where  I  had 
called  after  spending  the  evening  at  the  Maranis',  I 
met  the  patrol  at  the  corner  of  the  street  where  I 
lived.  The  sergeant  stopped  me,  and  after  making 
sundry  inquiries  as  to  who  and  what  I  was,  finally 
demanded  my  carta  di  sicurezza.  I  had  changed  my 
dress  before  starting  out,  and  left  the  document  at 
home.  I  begged  him  to  accompany  me  to  my  door, 
where  I  would  fetch  it  for  him;  but  he  declined, 
and  I  was  marched  off  to  the  police  office  like  a 
malefactor  by  six  gens  d'armes.  There,  after  he  had 
roused  a  sleepy  official,  I  was  detained  to  undergo 
a  cross-examination  which  would  have  been  enter- 
taining had  it  not  been  so  late.  The  commissioner, 
more  tender-hearted  than  the  sergeant,  at  last  threw 
on  his  cloak,  and  the  two  accompanied  me  to  my 
lodgings.  They  ransacked  my  drawers,  and  took 
away  all  my  papers,  requesting  me  to  call  for  them 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY        145 

next  morning,  when  they  were  returned  to  me  with 
a  caution  against  repeating  the  offence.  It  is  pos- 
sible I  might  have  saved  myself  the  trouble  and 
annoyance  had  I  tipped  the  sergeant,  but  all  I  was 
possessed  of  was  one  five-franc  piece,  which  I  could 
not  make  up  my  mind  to  part  with. 

Day  after  day  I  called  on  one  agent  or  another, 
until  I  was  weary,  the  invariable  answer  to  my 
beggar's  petition  being:  "Nothing  for  you  to-day!  " 
I  sang  for  them  if  they  expressed  a  wish  to  hear 
what  I  could  do,  but  my  youth  and  voice  were  every- 
where against  me.  At  times  I  felt  my  situation  so 
keenly  that  I  contemplated  putting  an  end  to  my 
existence.  An  occasional  gleam  of  light  in  the 
shape  of  a  possible  small  engagement,  shone  on  me ; 
but  some  more  fortunate  or  more  enterprising  indi- 
vidual overshadowed  me,  and  made  the  darkness 
gloomier  than  ever.  Sick  at  heart,  after  making 
my  rounds,  I  returned  one  day  to  my  lodgings ;  my 
landlady,  with  a  beaming  countenance,  rushed  out 
as  soon  as  she  heard  my  step,  and  informed  me  that 
Orlandi,  an  agent  I  had  not  called  on  for  some  days, 
wished  to  see  me  immediately.  I  did  not  wait  to  be 
told  twice,  and  ran  off  in  a  wild  state  of  excitement 
to  find  out  what  slice  of  luck  was  in  store  for  me. 
I  accepted  his  offer  before  I  knew  precisely  what  it 
was  —  an  engagement  for  a  month  at  a  small  theatre, 
Santa  Radegonda,  terms  one  hundred  zwanzigers. 
I  then  hurried  to  the  theatre  and  saw  the  manager, 
who  informed  me  I  was  to  sing  in  a  new  opera, 


146        REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

written  and  composed  by  a  lady,  an  ex-pupil  of  the 
Conservatorio,  Carlotta  Ferrari.  I  would  have  pre- 
ferred appearing  in  an  opera  already  known,  but  the 
state  of  my  finances  would  not  admit  of  any  dally- 
ing. Except  that  it  was  entitled  uUgo,"  and  that 
three  very  good  artists  took  part  in  it,  I  recollect 
little  about  the  work.  I  was  very  happy  during  the 
rehearsals,  for  the  composer  and  my  comrades  all 
treated  me  with  the  greatest  kindness  and  considera- 
tion. Achille  Errani,  the  tenor,  an  excellent  singer, 
and  a  great  favourite  with  the  Milanese,  took  great 
pains  in  assisting  me.  I  afterwards  renewed  his 
acquaintance  in  New  York,  where  he  had  established 
himself  as  a  teacher.  Each  theatre  kept  a  carriage 
at  the  disposal  of  the  artists  to  drive  them  to  and 
from  the  rehearsals  and  performances.  After  one  of 
our  rehearsals,  the  attendant,  closing  the  door  sud- 
denly, crushed  one  of  my  fingers ;  I  did  not  notice  it 
was  bleeding,  it  was  so  benumbed,  until  I  arrived  at 
home  and  found  one  side  of  my  same  "  darling  bags  " 
(again  restored)  smeared  with  blood,  which  cost  me 
a  heavy  sigh.  The  next  time  we  met,  I  was  horri- 
fied to  find  that  my  accident  had  been  the  cause  of 
ruining  the  prima  donna's  gown  of  pale-blue  silk 
beyond  redemption.  She  knew  I  was  poor,  and 
begged  me  not  to  be  troubled  in  my  mind,  at  the 
same  time  expressing  her  sorrow  at  the  pain  I  suf- 
fered with  a  hearty  good  nature  I  can  never  forget. 
The  opera  was  played  three  nights;  it  contained 
some  effective  numbers;  one,  a  duet  for  tenor  and 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  S A  NT  LEY        147 

baritone,  created  a  sensation,  and  was  redemanded 
each  night.  My  three  companions  were  received 
with  great  enthusiasm,  and  I  acquitted  myself  fairly 
well.  After  this  I  was  to  have  played  Germont  in 
the  "Traviata."  The  lady  who  was  to  play  Vio- 
letta,  however,  entertained  views  which  did  not 
coincide  with  those  of  the  manager  —  at  any  rate, 
he  said  so;  a  dispute  arose,  which  through  my 
impatience  terminated  in  1113-  throwing  up  the 
engagement  and  losing  the  little  pay  I  might  have 
claimed. 

The  advent  of  the  long-desired  supplies  from 
home  relieved  me  from  anxiety.  I  also  received 
advances  from  another  agent  who  was  desirous  of 
entering  into  an  engagement  with  me  for  a  period 
of  five  years,  to  sing  in  any  theatre  in  Italy,  with 
which  he  might  contract  for  the  use  of  my  services. 
The  terms  proposed  were  one  hundred  /.\vanzigers 
per  month  for  the  first  year,  with  an  increase  of  one 
hundred  zwanzigers  per  month  each  succeeding  year 
until  the  termination  of  the  engagement,  out  of 
which  I  had  to  pay  all  my  expenses,  travelling  as 
well  as  living,  and  find  the  minor  wardrobe.  Fortu- 
nately for  me,  the  engagement  was  never  concluded. 

In  the  midst  of  my  distress  during  the  three 
months  of  "hard  times,"  I  was  not  without  some 
consolation ;  I  found  friendly  sympathy  where  I  had 
no  reason  to  look  for  it.  My  landlady  behaved  most 
generously;  she  never  by  word  or  act  implied  she 
thought  I  was  imposing  on  her  hospitality,  though  I 


148        REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

Avas  actually  living  at  her  expense.  She  tried  all 
she  could  to  persuade  me  to  accept  the  engagement 
for  Padua,  and  offered  to  lend  me  the  money  to  pay 
my  expenses ;  and  she  took  the  trouble  to  visit  some 
of  the  agents  with  whom  she  was  acquainted  to  en- 
deavour to  excite  their  interest  in  my  behalf.  I  sang 
one  evening  at  a  concert  in  the  crush-room  of  the 
Scala,  given  by  a  horn-player  named  De  Paoli ;  and 
though  I  had  not  paid  her  a  farthing  for  several 
weeks,  she  insisted  on  preparing  a  dinner  expressly 
for  me,  such  as  she  deemed  advisable  for  a  singer; 
and  when  at  length  I  was  able  to  clear  myself  of 
debt,  she  was  much  more  rejoiced  at  my  relief  from 
anxiety  than  at  receiving  the  money  I  owed  her. 

I  had  received  my  last  supply,  which  with  the 
most  rigid  economy  would  not  last  long;  the  pros- 
pect of  an  engagement  on  which  I  could  subsist  was 
very  remote.  I  could  not  afford  to  share  my  little 
with  anybody;  therefore,  much  against  my  will,  I 
was  forced  to  give  up  intimacy  with  my  Italian 
friends.  I  had  kept  aloof  from  my  English  ones, 
and  I  could  not  expect  they  would  entertain  any 
regard  for  me.  Here  again,  however,  I  met  with 
unlooked-for  sympathy,  displayed  in  various  friendly 
actions,  mingled  at  times  with  a  slight  degree  of 
pity,  which,  spite  of  myself,  irritated  me.  They 
evidently  looked  upon  me  as  a  weakly  traveller, 
trusting  to  an  obstinate  guide,  who  insisted  on  lead- 
ing him  by  an  abandoned  path  so  steep  and  rugged 
that,  if  he  reached  his  destination,  it  would  onlv  be 


REMINISCENCES  OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY     149 

with  strength  exhausted,  instead  of  the  newly-con- 
structed smooth  highway,  by  which  he  could  accom- 
plish his  journey  without  fatigue.  I  was  pained, 
though  I  am  sure  they  harboured  no  ill-natured 
intentions,  at  the  slighting  way  in  which  they  spoke 
of  my  master.  He  was  behind  the  time,  he  was  too 
slow,  he  was  all  very  well  for  Rossini,  Bellini, 
Donizetti  and  the  old  school,  where  there  was  little 
scope  for  declamation ;  but  for  the  sensational  operas 
of  Verdi  and  the  new  declamatory  school  he  was 
of  no  use.  I  would  like  to  know  how  many  bari- 
tones of  that  or  any  time  were  capable  of  declaim- 
ing (if  they  could  sing  them)  the  parts  of  Assur 
("  Semiramide  ").  Fernando  (/'  La  Gazza  Ladra  "), 
Maometto  Secondo.  Dandini("La  Cenerentola")  and 
"  William  Tell."  Do  people  who  talk  so  much  about 
declamation  know  what  they  are  talking  about?  I 
doubt  it  in  most  cases !  Declamation  is  the  art  of 
uttering  language,  with  just  emphasis  accompanied 
by  appropriate  gesture,  in  order  to  produce  dramatic 
effect.  An  isolated  scene  of  a  drama  ma}*  produce  a 
"sensational  effect"  if  played  with  extraordinary 
vigour,  pathos,  or  brilliancy,  but  unless  that  scene 
bears  relation  to  those  which  precede  and  those 
A\hich  follow  it,  it  is  not  a  "dramatic  effect."  So 
also  with  a  poem  or  narration;  any  isolated  passage 
may  produce  a  sensational  effect,  but  it  must  bear 
relation  to  the  remainder  of  the  poem  or  narration, 
otherwise  it  is  not  a  "dramatic  effect ";  the  decla- 
mation is  false,  or,  in  other  words,  not  declamation 


150         REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  S ANT  LEY 

at  all.  In  order  to  declaim,  the  dramatic  intelli- 
gence must  be  concentrated  on  the  drama,  poem  or 
narration  as  a  whole,  not  as  made  up  of  various 
scenes  or  phrases.  In  fact,  declamation  is  the  art 
of  "holding  the  mirror  up  to  Nature,"  which  can 
never  be  achieved  by  paying  attention  to  any  par- 
ticular scenes  in  a  drama,  however  sensational  or 
startling  may  be  the  effects  produced  in  them.  Such 
effects  may  please  the  general  unthinking  public, 
and  draw  crowded  houses,  but  they  can  never  satisfy 
people  of  artistic  intelligence. 

Let  any  member  of  the  latter  class  examine  the 
parts  I  have  mentioned  above,  and  I  feel  sure  he 
will  acknowledge  they  all  demand  declamatory 
talent  of  the  highest  order  to  do  them  justice. 

Fortunatety  the  engagement  for  five  years  was  not 
concluded.  I  might  have  been  starved  to  deatli 
before  the  expiration  of  the  first  year,  or  had  I  con- 
trived to  escape  that  fate,  and  fulfilled  the  contract. 
the  wear  and  tear  would  probably  have  destroyed  my 
voice.  However,  as  I  then  felt,  I  would  have  pre- 
ferred to  face  those  risks  than  return  to  England  — 
as  I  knew  I  must,  unless  I  could  earn  sufficient  to 
support  myself.  I  left  no  stone  unturned;  I  perse- 
cuted the  agents,  until  they  must  have  been  as  sick 
of  my  importunities  as  I  was  of  importuning.  I 
thought  of  turning  my  fiddling  to  account;  but  there 
were  already  plenty  of  violinists  willing  to  accept 
two  or  three  zwanzigers  a  night  without  finding 
employment,  to  whom  I  could  not  hold  a  candle. 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  S A  NT  LEY        151 

I  could  not  afford  to  attend  theatres,  so  occupied 
myself  indoors  studying  singing  and  thorough-bass, 
and  out  of  doors  studying  Nature  and  my  fellow- 
creatures. 

At  last  the  time  arrived  when  it  was  evident  I 
must  decide  on  the  course  I  intended  to  pursue;  all 
hope  of  an  engagement  for  the  autumn  season  had 
vanished  long  before  —  the  theatres  were  already 
open  or  about  to  open.  I  would  have  struggled  on 
through  three  months  preceding  the  Carnival  with 
the  smallest  certainty  in  view,  but  I  had  not  received 
even  the  offer  of  an  engagement;  I  would  have 
accepted  small  parts — any  parts  within  my  means 
—  by  which  I  could  have  earned  my  daily  bread, 
so  unwilling  was  I  to  leave  Italy.  With  all  my 
troubles,  the  two  years  I  spent  there  formed  the 
happiest  period  of  my  life.  I  have  no  desire  to 
make  much  of  my  troubles  —  thousands  of  people 
have  had  to  endure  far  moiv  than  ever  it  was  my  lot 
to  suffer;  but  they  were  great  troubles  to  me,  inas- 
much as  they  kept  ever  present  in  my  mind  the 
dread  of  not  being  able  to  pay  my  wa}-.  My  ambi- 
tion was  to  sing  in  opera;  I  had  studied  for  it,  and 
I  desired  to  remain  in  Italy,  where  there  were  nu- 
merous small  theatres  in  which  I  could  have  gained 
stage  experience  before  attempting  those  of  greater 
importance  —  in  fact,  I  wished  to  return  to  my 
native  land  with  something  of  a  reputation  to  back 
my  pretensions  to  favour. 

Early    in   October,    Henry   F.    Chorley,    who  was 


152         REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

making  a  tour  of  recreation,  called  on  me.  I  had 
heard  a  great  deal  about  him,  but  had  never  seen 
him.  I  expected  to  find  a  dark,  stern  man,  with  a 
tendency  to  domineer;  I  was  surprised,  therefore, 
to  meet  a  delicate-looking  being,  with  light,  sandy 
hair,  a  thin,  rather  squeaky  voice,  and  a  hesitating, 
shy  manner,  which  I  soon  discovered  was  only  man- 
ner. There  was  no  lack  of  decision  in  the  expres- 
sion of  his  opinions ;  he  entertained  the  strongest 
prejudices  of  anyone  I  ever  knew,  but  he  was  one 
of  the  best  friends  I  ever  had.  As  I  was  not  at 
home  when  he  called,  he  left  a  message,  in  accord- 
ance with  which  I  joined  him  at  breakfast  next 
morning,  Sunday.  It  poured  with  rain,  which  gave 
him  the  opportunity  for  airing  one  of  his  pet  preju- 
dices—  that  the  climate  and  weather  in  England 
were  as  fine  as  those  of  any  other  country  in  the 
world.  We  walked  to  and  fro  inside  the  cathedral 
for  about  a  couple  of  hours,  discussing  my  plans 
and  my  probable  chances  of  success  if  I  returned  to 
England;  also  the  state  of  music  in  Italy.  He  did 
not  like  the  idea  of  my  remaining;  but  there  was 
nothing  peremptory  in  the  way  he  urged  the  advisa- 
bility of  my  return  to  England.  I  passed  the  whole 
of  that  day  with  him,  and,  by  appointment,  we 
called  together  on  my  master  the  day  following, 
when  I  sang  several  pieces  for  him — to  his  satisfac- 
tion, I  believe,  as  he  then  advised  me  to  return  with 
great  earnestness ;  however,  he  recommended  me  to 
weigh  the  matter  well  before  deciding.  Knowing 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CIIARLLS   SANTLEY        153 

the  position  he  held  in  the  musical  world,  I  had 
great  faith  in  his  opinion,  and  made  up  my  mind  on 
the  spot.  He  gave  me  a  letter  of  introduction  to 
John  Hullah,  told  me  he  would  let  me  know  as  soon 
as  he  returned  to  London,  and  offered  me  the  use  of 
his  purse,  which  I  with  heartfelt  thanks  for  his 
courtesy  and  thoughtfulness  declined.  We  then 
parted,  he  to  pursue  his  journey  southward,  I  to 
prepare  for  my  journey  northward. 

I  had  very  few  friends  to  take  leave  of,  the 
Maranis  having  gone  to  the  lakes.  The  day  before 
I  left,  I  met  an  English  student,  a  baritone,  sup- 
posed to  be  the  "coming  man"1;  he  was  quite  irate 
when  I  told  him  I  was  about  starting  for  home,  just 
as  I  had  placed  my  foot  on  the  ladder  of  fame. 
What  could  I  expect  in  England?  If  I  could  take  a 
part  in  a  glee,  I  might  procure  a  few  engagements, 
and  earn  a  five-pound  note  now  and  then  at  City 
dinners,  or  I  might  give  lessons;  but  to  make  a 
name  and  position  with  my  meagre  talents  was  out 
of  the  question.  I  think  we  differed  on  the  subject, 
but  I  did  not  tell  him  so.  When  he  found  I  was 
obstinate  or  foolish,  or  both,  he  poured  a  flood  of 
pity  over  my  deluded  soul,  and  gave  me  his  parting 
blessing. 

The  journey  was  very  tedious ;  the  line  by  Culoz 
had  only  just  been  opened,  of  which  I  did  not  know, 
so  I  took  the  old  route,  by  rail  and  diligence  alter- 
nately, to  Lyons.  Owing  to  floods,  a  bridge  had 
been  carried  away  between  Novara  and  Turin,  which 


154         REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  S ANT  LEY 

caused  me  a  delay  of  twenty-four  hours  in  the  latter 
city,  and  the  expense  of  food  and  lodging,  which  I 
could  ill-afford.  A  rascally  waiter  at  the  hotel 
where  I  put  up  robbed  me  of  five  francs,  which  he 
declared  he  had  paid  for  the  French  vise  to  my  pass- 
port. When  I  arrived  at  Lyons  late  in  the  evening, 
I  had  scarcely  enough  money  left  to  pay  for  a  bed ;  a 
friendly  fellow-traveller,  however,  shared  a  room 
with  me,  and  offered  to  pay  my  part  if  I  could  not. 
I  was  relieved  from  the  necessity  of  borrowing;  for 
when  I  applied  at  the  office  of  the  Messageries 
Imperiales,  instead  of  a  second-class  ticket  to  Paris, 
they  handed  me  the  amount  of  the  fare.  I  paid  my 
bill,  made  a  substantial  breakfast,  and  travelled 
third-class.  Just  as  the  train  was  about  to  start,  a 
labouring  man  with  his  wife  and  seven  children 
entered  the  compartment  I  had  made  up  my  mind  I 
was  going  to  have  all  to  myself.  The  day  I  passed 
in  tolerable  comfort;  but  between  having  no  pillow 
myself,  acting  as  one  to  at  least  two  of  the  young- 
sters, and  an  occasional  squabble,  I  passed  a  very 
uncomfortable  night.  I  had  not  sufficient'  money 
left  to  pay  my  journey  from  Paris  to  London,  and 
threw  myself  on  the  mercy  of  the  agents  for  the 
route  vid  Dieppe  and  Newhaven,  who  courteously 
advanced  me  the  ticket  on  my  leaving  my  portman- 
teau in  pledge  with  them.  The  cab-fare  from  Lon- 
don Bridge  to  my  destination  drained  my  purse.  I 
was  back  in  my  native  land  without  a  penny  to  bless 
myself  with,  my  portmanteau  in  pawn,  tired  and 


REMINISCENCES    Ol<    CHARLES   SANTLEY        155 

hungry  —  for,  with  the  exception  of  four  meals,  I 
had  subsisted  on  a  Milanese  sausage  and  dry  bread 
since  I  left  Novara,  rive  days  en  route;  yet  I  had 
only  one  regret  —  that  I  had  been  obliged  to  leave 
Italy. 


CHAPTER   XI 

Visit  to  Hullah  :  his  Criticism —  J.  L.  Ration's  Offer  —  My  Debut 
in  the  "Creation" —  Manuel  Garcia's  Assistance  —  Appear- 
ances at  the  Crystal  Palace  —  Molique's  Pedantry  —  Slow  Prog- 
ress —  Anecdotes  of  Chorley  —  Introduced  to  Costa  by  Chorley 
—  A  Favourable  Verdict — Costa's  Character  —  An  Epoch-mak- 
ing Party  at  Chorley's  —  Adelaide  and  Gertrude  Kerable  — 
Appearance  in  the  "  Messiah  "  —  •'  The  Trumpet  shall  sound  " 
iitiinta  the  Tmmpet  —  Operatic  Aspirations  —  "St.  Paul"  at 
Manchester — "Elijah"  at  Exeter  Hall  —  The  Royal  Society 
of  Musicians'  Dinner  —  Sight-reading,  its  Advantages  ;.ud  Draw- 
backs—  Festival  at  Leeds  in  1858  —  Abortive  Negotiations  with 
Operatic  Managers  —  Rejected  by  the  Birmingham  Festival 
Committee  —  I  attend  the  Festival  as  Chorley's  Guest  —  Viar- 
dot,  Garcia,  and  Sims  Reeves  —  Private  Concerts  —  Kindly  En- 
couragement from  Reeves,  Clara  Novello,  Mario,  and  Grisi  — 
J.  G.  Patey  —  His  Taste  in  Dress  —  A  Visit  to  the  Standard 
Theatre  —  An  Unexpected  Lobster. 

I  WAS  so  anxious  to  be  at  work  that  I  deferred 
paying  a  visit  to  Liverpool  to  see  my  relations  and 
friends  until  I  had  taken  some  steps  towards  making 
an  appearance  in  public.  My  father  came  up  to 
meet  me,  and  we  called  together  upon  John  Hullah 
to  present  the  letter  of  introduction  Chorley  had 
given  me.  He  received  us  very  courteously,  and 
made  an  appointment  to  hear  me  sing.  At  the  time 
indicated  we  went  to  St.  Martin's  Hall,  and  were 
ushered  into  the  large  concert-room,  where  a  class 
was  struggling  with  a  solfeggio.  The  novelty  and 
156 


REMINISCENCES    OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY        157 

innocence  of  the  proceeding  amused  me ;  I  observed 
that  a  large  number  of  those  present  did  not  open 
their  mouths,  and  those  who  did  did  not  produce 
many  musical  effects.  The  class  dismissed,  I  went 
on  the  platform  to  stand  my  trial.  I  was  introduced 
to  Mrs.  Hullah,  who  accompanied  me  exceedingly 
well ;  she  was  a  very  talented  woman  in  her  profes- 
sion and  most  amiable  in  private  life.  I  sang  the 
same  piece  by  Rossini  I  had  sung  for  Chorley  in 
Milan.  At  the  end  of  it  Hullah  remarked  that, 
sung  by  Tamburini,  no  doubt  it  would  be  very 
interesting;  evidently,  from  his  manner  of  saying 
it,  he  found  it  uninteresting  sung  by  me.  He 
requested  me  to  sing  something  from  an  oratorio, 
suggesting  the  recitative  and  aria  from  the  "Mes- 
siah," "For  behold  darkness,"  etc.,  with  which  I 
complied.  He  then  said  I  was  better  prepared  than 
anyone  coming  from  Italy  he  had  heard  for  some 
years,  but  added  the  original  remark,  "You  have 
still  a  great  deal  to  learn."  It  is  now  thirty-four 
years  since  the  observation  was  made,  and  I  find  I 
have  still  a  great  deal  to  learn,  so  I  am  convinced 
Hullah  was  right. 

When  taking  leave  he  told  me  he  would  give  me 
a  chance  of  a  public  hearing  as  soon  as  an  opportu- 
nity occurred,  but  at  present,  etc.,  etc.  —  the  old, 
old  story,  as  usual,  I  thought,  and  did  not  feel  at 
all  elated.  My  father  was  much  annoyed  at  what 
he  considered  the  cavalier,  off-hand  way  in  which  I 
had  been  criticised  and  dismissed,  but  he  had  never 


158         REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  S  ANT  LEY 

had  any  experience  of  managers.  I  sang  for  J.  L. 
Hatton  in  the  green-room  of  the  Princess  Theatre 
one  morning  before  rehearsal;  I  felt  much  more 
angry  at  his  offer  to  put  me  in  the  programme  at  a 
City  dinner  than  I  was  at  being  told  I  had  a  great 
deal  to  learn. 

Chorley  returned  to  London  shortly  after  I  re- 
turned from  a  visit  to  Liverpool.  I  frequently 
dined  alone  with  him,  and  afterwards  accompanied 
him  to  the  theatre  or  a  concert.  One  morning  I 
received  a  message  to  go  round  to  his  house  immedi- 
ately, as  he  had  something  of  importance  to  com- 
municate. It  was  to  the  effect  that  Hullah  was 
going  to  perform  the  "Creation,"  and  was  desirous 
of  having  different  singers  for  the  parts  of  Adam 
and  Eve  from  those  who  represented  the  angels  in 
the  first  two  parts  of  the  oratorio ;  he  could  not  offer 
me  any  terms,  but  if  I  was  satisfied  with  this  oppor- 
tunity of  making  an  appearance  in  public  he  would 
be  pleased  to  accept  my  services  to  sing  the  part  of 
Adam.  Although  Chorley  begged  me  to  take  a  few 
days  to  consider  the  offer,  I  decided  at  once ;  I  knew 
the  part  well,  the  music  suited  me,  and  I  cared 
nothing  about  its  comparatively  minor  importance. 
I  went  to  try  over  the  duet  with  the  lady  who  was 
to  represent  my  malheureuse  cotelette ;  I  found  a 
lady  seated  in  the  drawing-room,  who  made  me  a 
distant  though  graceful  bow  on  my  entrance.  After 
a  few  moments'  hesitation  I  ventured  to  remark, 
"Miss  ,  I  presume."  "No,"  she  replied,  "I 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY        159 

am  not  Miss ;  I  am  Miss  Messent,  and  I  under- 
stand I  am  to  have  the  pleasure  of  singing  the  duets 
in  the  last  part  of  the  '  Creation  '  with  you ;  Miss 
was  to  have  sung  them,  but  for  some  unex- 
plained reason  she  has  given  up  the  engagement." 
The  reason,  which  I  only  learned  some  years  after, 

was  that  Miss  had   made  a   small   reputation 

already,  which  she  declined  jeopardizing  by  singing 
duets  with  a  young  man  fresh  from  Italy.  I  dined 
with  Chorley  on  the  evening  of  the  concert,  and  met 
Manuel  Garcia,  who  accompanied  us  to  St.  Martin's 
Hall.  I  succeeded  better  than  I  had  dared  to  hope. 
I  walked  home  with  Chorley  and  Garcia  after  the 
performance;  the  latter  expressed  himself  pleased, 
and  pointed  out  certain  defects  to  be  overcome,  at 
the  same  time  offering  to  render  me  any  assistance 
in  his  power,  an  offer  of  which  I  promptly  availed 
myself,  and  with  great  profit.  One  consequence  of 
my  success  was  an  engagement  for  three  concerts  at 
tlic  Crystal  Palace,  for  which  I  received  ten  guineas. 
The  last  took  place  on  Christmas  Day,  1857;  Mo- 
lique  played  two  solos,  and  furnished  me  with  an 
amusing  example  of  pedantry.  The  orchestra  played 
the  overture  to  "  Der  Freischiitz."  I  happened  to 
be  conversing  with  Mnlique  when  it  was  about  to 
begin,  so  I  begged  him  to  excuse  me  leaving  him 
abruptly  as  I  wished  to  hear  it;  it  was  such  beauti- 
ful music.  "It  is  very  effective,"  said  he,  "but  it 
is  not  music."  "  How  do  you  mean  it  is  not  music? 
J  always  thought  it  was  very  fine!"  "No,  no; 


160         KEMLVISCEXCES    OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

listen,  and  you  shall  hear  it  is  not  music!"  I  lis- 
tened, and  enjoyed  it  very  much.  When  I  returned 
to  the  artists'  room,  Molique  looked  at  me  with 
a  knowing  twinkle  in  his  eye,  and  said,  "Well, 
you  have  heard?"  "Yes."  said  I,  "and  I  was 
delighted."  "Ah,  but  that  is  not  music,"  he 
repeated;  "did  you  not  hear?"  humming  the  violin 
passage  in  the  stretto.  "Yes,"  I  said,  "what  about 
it  .  "  "It  is  wrong;  the  B  must  go  to  C,  not  back 
to  G."  "But,"  I  exclaimed,  "that  would  ruin  the 
passage."  "That  may  be,  but  I  cannot  allow  it;  it 
is  not  music." 

At  the  first  concert  of  the  three  I  was  very  much 
disappointed  with  myself.  I  sang  the  Count's  air 
from  "Le  Nozze  de  Figaro,"  "Vedro  mentr'io 
sospiro,"  which  did  not  rouse  the  audience  to  any 
enthusiasm,  and,  by  Chorley's  desire,  the  old  Eng- 
lish song,  "  When  forced  from  dear  Hebe  to  go  "  —  a 
dull  song,  quite  out  of  place  in  a  Crystal  Palace 
Saturday  programme.  It  had  been  scored,  too,  by 
somebody  who  had  much  better  have  left  it  alone. 
The  small  applause  which  followed  my  "  rendition  " 
was  bestowed  out  of  compassion,  I  believe. 

I  sang  at  several  concerts  in  London  and  the 
suburbs  during  the  winter,  but  was  obliged  to  admit 
that  I  did  not  make  much  impression  on  my  audi- 
ences. I  should  have  liked  to  introduce  songs  I 
had  sung  before  I  went  to  Italy,  or  something  suited 
to  popular  taste,  which  need  not  be  of  inferior 
quality;  but  my  friend  and  monitor,  whose  kindness 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SAXTLEY        161 

and  generosit}r  bound  me  to  study  his  wishes, 
insisted  upon  my  selections  being  submitted  to  him 
for  approval.  One  song  in  particular,  which  I  was 
anxious  to  sing  at  the  Surrey  Gardens,  he  rejected 
with  indignation,  and  told  me  if  ever  I  sang  it  he 
would  cut  my  acquaintance. 

I  may  as  well  introduce  here  two  short  anecdotes 
of  Chorley,  which  may  prove  interesting,  and  cer- 
tainly serve  as  a  warning  to  those  of  my  readers  who 
are  apt  to  be  rash  in  .stating  their  convictions.  On 
the  first  occasion,  when  I  paid  him  a  visit  on  his 
return  from  Italy,  among  other  incidents,  he  told  me 
that  at  Naples  he  had  seen  an  opera  by  Donizetti 
announced  for  performance,  of  which  he  never  before 
heard;  but  he  did  not  attend  the  performance,  as  he 
was  sick  of  Donizetti,  and  he  presumed  the  opera 
would  be  full  of  his  usual  maudlin  sentiment.  I 
xvas  curious,  and  asked  the  name  of  the  work.  He 
replied:  "  Klisa  Fusco."  "But. "said  I,  "you  must 
have  heard  it  often."  "No,  never!"  "Why,"  I 
said,  "do  you  not  know  that  is  'Lucrezia  Borgia,' 
the  title  being  changed  by  order  of  the  Government 
for  political  reasons,  as  'William  Tell'  is  rechrist- 
rned  'William  Wallace,'  and  'The  Sicilian  Ves- 
pers' 'Giovanna  de  Guzman  '  ?" 

During  the  Pyne  and  Harrison  management  at 
Co  vent  Garden,  Longfellow's  poem  "Hiawatha," 
with  music  by  Robert  Stoepel,  was  represented  in 
pantomime  by  the  Pyne  family,  the  poem  being 
read  by  Miss  Matilda  Heron.  Chorley  was  so 


162         REMINISCENCES    OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

pleased  with  the  music  that  he  determined  to  sub- 
mit a  libretto  of  his  own  to  Mr.  Stoepel,  in  the  hope 
that  he  might  be  induced  to  set  it  to  music.  He 
invited  Stoepel  to  dine  with  him  to  discuss  the  mat- 
ter. In  the  course  of  conversation,  Chorley  told 
me,  after  extolling  the  musical  merits  of  his  work, 
he  asked  Stoepel  what  on  earth  could  have  induced 
him  to  jeopardize  his  success  by  allowing  such  an 
incompetent  person  as  Miss  Heron  to  attempt  to 
read  the  poem.  I  stopped  him  abruptly,  and  asked 
"if  he  knew  who  Miss  Heron  was?"  "No,"  said 
he.  "Well,"  I  said,  "she  is  Mr.  Stoepel's  wife." 
"Good  God!"  he  exclaimed;  "what  have  I  done?" 
and  after  a  few  moments'  uneasy  reflection  he  added: 
"I  don't  care;  people  have  no  right  to  sail  under 
false  colours ! " 

Soon  after  my  appearance  at  St.  Martin's  Hall 
Costa  returned  to  town,  and,  to  my  great  joy, 
Chorley  informed  me  he  had  consented  to  hear  me 
sing.  At  the  same  time  I  felt  great  diffidence,  for 
I  could  not  help  meditating  on  the  contrast  between 
the  great  singers  he  had  been  accustomed  to  hear 
and  accompany  and  a  beginner  like  myself;  how- 
ever, I  determined  to  do  my  best.  Chorley  accom- 
panied me  to  his  house,  and  presented  me.  I  sang 
the  cavatina  "  All'  invito  gerieroso "  from  "  Mao- 
metto  Secondo,"  and  at  Chorley 's  suggestion  the  air 
"If  thou  should'st  mark  iniquities"  from  "Eli." 
Costa  expressed  himself  pleased,  and  kindly  directed 
my  attention  to  some  points  capable  of  improvement. 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY        163 

Thirty  years  of  intimate  professional  acquaintance- 
ship did  not  change  the  impression  then  made  on  me 
by  the  great  conductor.  Somewhat  cold  and  distant 
in  manner — :an  attitude  which  in  business  he  always 
maintained  —  quick  even  to  curtness  in  his  remarks 
and  directions,  by  which  he  acquired  the  unmerited 
name  of  "tyrant,"  with  an  impassive  countenance  in 
which  it  was  impossible  to  read  his  thoughts;  the 
only  visible  sign  of  approbation  or  the  contrary 
which  he  ever  vouchsafed  was  a  peculiar  twist  of 
the  back  of  his  neck.  Clear-headed)  systematic, 
and  punctual,  he  never  wasted  a  moment  of  time  at 
rehearsals ;  the  work  once  arranged  was  carried  on 
by  clockAvork.  Out  of  business  he  was  affable,  or 
merry,  according  to  the  society  in  which  he  found 
himself.  He  liked  a  good  dinner  and  good  wine, 
and  knew  how  to  enjoy  them;  and  in  a  quiet  t£te- 
a-tete,  of  which  I  have  had  many  with  him,  he 
delighted  in  a  bit  of  gossip  or  mild  scandal.  He 
made  me  no  promises,  but  told  me  he  was  sure  I 
would  make  a  good  career,  and  if  at  any  time  it  was 
in  his  power  to  do  me  a  service,  he  would  do  all  he 
could  for  me.  This  he  carried  out;  I  found  him 
ahvays  a  staunch  friend,  adviser,  and  monitor. 

He  had  two  hobbies  —  watches  and  horses.  Of 
the  latter  I  do  not  think  he  was  rich  enough  to  own 
many,  but  of  the  former  he  possessed  several,  some 
of  them  valuable  as  curiosities.  He  also  possessed  a 
chronometer,  a  very  appropriate  and  necessary  article 
for  one  who  prided  himself  on  his  punctuality.  I 


164         REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

believe  only  one  instance  is  recorded  of  his  retarding 
the  commencement  of  a  performance,  and  that  was 
in  consequence  of  the  delay  of  a  train.  On  one 
occasion,  when  I  sang  the  "  Elijah  "  at  Exeter  Hall, 
I  was  delayed  some  time  in  the  cab-rank  before  I 
arrived  at  the  entrance,  and  I  could  not  get  out  of 
my  vehicle  to  walk  up,  as  the  rain  was  pouring  in 
torrents.  I  arrived  at  the  foot  of  the  staircase  as  the 
clock  struck  half-past  seven.  I  rushed  up,  and  was 
in  the  orchestra  at  two  minutes  after  the  half  hour, 
but  the  second  bass  was  already  singing  the  open- 
ing recitative.  I  expected  a  reprimand,  but  Costa 
smiled  as  I  took  my  place,  and  told  me  to  keep  calm 
and  think  of  my  work  only. 

He  had  a  method  of  reading  a  score  for  the  first 
time  in  the  orchestra,  which,  as  far  as  my  observa- 
tion goes,  was  peculiar  to  himself.  It  is  the  usual 
practice  to  read  a  bar  or  more  ahead  of,  but  he  read 
a  bar  or  more  behind,  the  orchestra.  I  remarked  it 
at  a  rehearsal  for  Birmingham  festival  some  years 
after  the  period  on  which  I  am  now  engaged.  I  had 
to  sing  a  hymn  by  Rossini  never  performed  before, 
and  as  I  had  not  been  provided  with  a  copy,  I  was 
reading  from  the  full  score  from  which  Costa  was 
conducting.  I,  of  course,  had  to  read  a  bar  ahead, 
and  as  he  did  not  turn  over  in  time,  and  I  could  not 
very  well  guess  what  was  coming,  I  was  forced  to 
leave  out  a  bar  or  two  each  time  we  arrived  at  the 
bottom  of  a  page.  I  then  noticed  it  was  a  system- 
atic plan,  which  I  think  is  well  worth  the  considera- 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY        165 

tion    of   young    conductors.     It    is    much  easier   to 
correct  mistakes  after  hearing  them  than  before. 

In  the  evening,  after  my  first  appearance  at  the 
( 'rystal  Palace,  I  had  an  invitation  to  a  party  at 
Chorley's  to  meet  Miss  Gertrude  Kemble,  who  was 
about  to  make  her  d£but  at  St.  Martin's  Hall  in  the 
Christmas  performance  of  the  "Messiah."'  I  \vould 
have  much  preferred  staying  at  home  with  a  book ; 
I  felt  depressed  with  the  poor  impression  I  had  made 
in  the  afternoon,  and  tired  after  a  long  day  in  that 
dreary  place;  but  duty  called,  and  at  ten  o'clock  I 
made  my  way  to  13,  Eaton  Place,  West.  The  party, 
which  had  been  arranged  to  give  Miss  Kemble  an 
opportunity  of  singing  before  a  small  assembly  before 
confronting  the  larger  audience  at  St.  Martin's  Hall, 
included  Mrs.  Sartoris  (Adelaide  Kemble),  Virginia 
Gabriel,  John  Hullah,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Henry  Leslie, 
Miss  Kemble,  myself,  and  a  few  others.  I  felt  great 
sympathy  for  the  poor  trembling  girl  who  was  about 
to  undergo  an  ordeal  for  which  she  was  not  physi- 
cally prepared.  I  learned  afterwards  her  voice  had 
been  much  strained  by  an  incompetent  professor 
during  her  long  residence  in  Hanover.  Manuel 
Garcia  had  done  wonders  with  it  since  her  return  to 
England,  but  she  had  still  great  difficulty  in  con- 
trolling the  upper  register,  which  naturally  added 
considerably  to  her  nervousness.  Nevertheless,  she 
sang  "Rejoice  greatly,"  and  "I  know  that  my 
Redeemer  liveth,"  exceedingly  well,  and  with  great 
intelligence. 


166         REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

I  did  not  feel  very  happy  myself  at  the  idea  of 
singing  before  the  great  Adelaide  Kemble,  whose 
manner  when  I  was  presented  to  her  did  not  inspire 
me  with  much  confidence.  I  sang  a  song  by  Angelo 
Mariani,  the  conductor  of  the  opera  at  the  Carlo 
Felice,  Genoa  (and  at  Bologna  during  the  season  of 
the  fiera),  called  "II  Contrabbandiere, "  and  fortu- 
nately had  the  advantage  of  Miss  Gabriel's  assist- 
ance at  the  piano.  I  flattered  myself  I  had 
acquitted  myself  honourably;  everybody  compli- 
mented me,  but  some  time  after  I  heard  that  Mrs. 
Sartoris  criticised  my  performance  very  severely, 
and  prophesied  I  should  never  be  a  shining  light. 
This  party,  which  I  would  willingly  have  shirked, 
proved  a  very  important  event  for  me  —  in  less  than 
eighteen  months  Miss  Kemble  became  my  wife. 

For  the  performance  of  the  "Messiah,"  Hullah 
had  already  engaged  the  solo  singers,  but  being 
desirous  of  including  my  name  in  the  programme, 
he  asked  me  if  I  would  care  to  sing  "  The  trumpet 
shall  sound,"  as  it  was  the  only  song  he  could  ask 
Thomas  to  give  up.  I  said  certainly,  I  was  quite 
satisfied  to  help  in  any  way  I  could.  I  was  too 
interested  in  the  young  prima  donna  to  pay  much 
attention  to  the  other  solo  singers.  Although  she 
suffered  considerably  from  "stage  fright,"  she  sang 
with  true  artistic  feeling  and  perception;  all  the 
roulades  were  clearly  and  firmly  executed,  and  her 
voice  was  bright  and  in  tune  throughout.  Her 
reception  was  most  enthusiastic.  As  I  was  about 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SAXTLF.Y        167 

to  go  on  the  orchestra,  Hullah  informed  me  that  the 
trumpeter  had  been  called  away  suddenly,  and  asked 
me  whether  I  would  prefer  omitting  the  song,  or 
singing  it  with  the  trumpet  part  played  on  the  organ. 
I  chose  the  latter,  and  sang  it  so  much  to  the  satisfac- 
tion of  the  audience  that  they  wished  me  to  repeat 
it;  however,  I  thought  once  without  the  trumpet 
was  sufficient,  and  I  simply  bowed  my  acknowledg- 
ments. Miss  Kerable  afterwards  informed  me  that 
an  old  and  intimate  friend  of  her  family,  who  came 
to  town  expressly  to  be  present  on  the  occasion  of 
her -first  appearance,  said  that  I  reminded  him  forci- 
bly, both  as  regards  voice  and  singing,  of  Bartleman, 
the  predecessor  of  Henry  Phillips. 

I  had  a  desire  to  continue  my  theatrical  career; 
the  Italian  opera  was  the  object  of  my  ambition,  but 
I  was  sufficiently  modest  to  comprehend  that  with 
such  artists  as  formed  the  staff  there,  there  was  no 
chance  for  me.  When  I  first  returned  from  Italy,  I 
saw  an  announcement  of  an  operatic  tour  with  a 
number  of  eminent  artists,  Sims  Reeves  being  one  of 
them,  under  the  management  of  Willert  Beale.  I 
had  not  the  pleasure  of  his  acquaintance,  nor  did  I 
know  anyone  who  could  have  introduced  me  to  him, 
so  I  wrote  him  a  polite  note,  asking  him  whether  he 
could  find  a  place  in  his  company  for  me,  to  which  I 
received  no  reply.  I  do  not  blame  him,  for  I  know 
what  it  is  to  be  deluged  with  similar  applications. 
The  Pyne  and  Harrison  Company  had  already  begun 
its  career  at  the  Lyceum,  so  for  that  season  I  could 


168         REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SA.VTLEY 

not  hope  for  an  engagement.  In  January,  1858, 
there  were  three  state  performances  at  Her  Majesty's 
Theatre  during  the  week  in  which  the  Princess 
Royal  was  married.  One  of  the  evenings  was 
devoted  to  "••Macbeth."  Benedict  had  the  direction 
of  the  music,  and  engaged  me  to  play  Hecate,  but 
when  the  dates  were  arranged,  the  performance  of 
"Macbeth"  was  fixed  for  a  night  on  which  I  had 
promised  to  sing  for  Hullah,  so  with  no  small  feel- 
ing of  disappointment  I  gave  up  Hecate.  Early  in 
the  year  I  sang  in  "  St.  Paul "  at  the  Gentlemen's 
Concerts  in  Manchester.  I  was  engaged  to  sing  in 
Haydn's  "Seasons,"  at  which  I  worked  hard,  as  I  had 
never  either  heard  or  read  the  oratorio.  A  week 
before  the  performance,  Halle'  wrote  to  me  saying 
they  had  found  it  necessary  to  change  the  work; 
would  I  sing  in  "St.  Paul"  instead?  I  was  only 
too  pleased,  as  I  had  once  sung  the  part  at  a  private 
performance  in  Liverpool  before  I  went  to  Italy,  and 
it  suited  me  much  better  than  the  part  in  the 
"Seasons."  After  this  I  made  my  first  appearance 
in  my  native  town  at  the  Philharmonic  Hall. 

I  essayed  the  part  of  "Elijah,"  the  first  time,  for 
the  Sacred  Harmonic  Society  at  Exeter  Hall  early 
in  March.  I  had  only  twice  heard  the  oratorio,  and 
I  had  not  contemplated  the  difficulties  of  the  part. 
Musically,  I  had  little  to  fear,  but  as  I  proceeded 
with  the  study  of  it,  its  histrionic  exigencies  (if 
that  expression  may  be  allowed  in  speaking  of  a 
drama  represented  without  action)  overwhelmed  me. 


REMINISCENCES    OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY        169 

The  three  episodes  in  the  first  part  —  the  resuscita- 
tion of  the  widow's  dead  son,  the  confounding  of 
the  priests  of  Baal,  and  the  calling  down  of  the  rain 
which  ends  the  part  —  demand  the  greatest  possible 
amount  of  force,  not  physical  so  much  as  mental,  by 
far  the  most  trying.  The  mind  must  be  absorbed  in 
the  scenes  represented,  or  the  performance,  however 
good  as  a  vocal  display,  cannot  be  a  portrayal  of  the 
character  of  Elijah;  consequently,  to  those  who  are 
able  to  discriminate,  it  will  be  totally  uninteresting. 
I  grant  there  are  but  few  who  care  to  discriminate, 
or  are  capable  of  doing  so,  but  it  is  to  those  few  a 
true  artist  will  address  himself.  The  second  part 
contains  an  episode  no  less  exacting  than  the  three 
already  quoted,  and  of  a  totally  different  nature,  in 
the  picture  of  Elijah's  despair  of  fulfilling  his  mis- 
sion, his  declaration  of  his  unworthiness,  and  his 
longing  to  die..  Here  the  vocalist  is  prone  to  forget 
the  intense  dramatic  interest  in  the  execution  of 
one  of  the  finest  examples  of  vocal  writing.  And  it 
must  never  be  forgotten  that  the  recitative  which 
opens  the  oratorio,  like  the  first  line  Hamlet  speaks, 
"A  little  more  than  kith,  and  less  than  kind,"  is  the 
keystone  to  the  whole  character.  My  first  essay  was 
a  failure,  but  the  performance  was  repeated  a  week 
after,  when  I  recovered  my  lost  laurels.  As  I  came 
off  the  platform,  Charles  Lucas1  patted  me  on  the 

1  Charles  Lucas  was  a  first-rate  musician  and  violoncellist.  He 
succeeded  Lindley  as  principal  violoncello  at  the  Italian  Opera, 
Covent  Garden,  the  Sacred  Harmonic,  and  all  the  principal  fes- 
tivals, and  was  for  some  years  principal  of  the  Koyal  Academy 
of  Music. 


170         REMINISCENCES    OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

back,  and  said,  "  You  were  Elijah  to-night,  my  boy ; 
last  week  you  were  nothing  like  him." 

I  was  invited  to  the  annual  dinner  of  the  Royal 
Society  of  Musicians,  and  to  take  part  in  the  mu- 
sical proceedings.  I  chose  Hullah's  song,  "I  arise 
from  dreams  of  thee,"  which  Cusins  kindly  accom- 
panied for  me.  When  dinner  was  concluded,  I 
noticed  a  commotion  amongst  the  professional  gen- 
tlemen seated  in  my  vicinity.  There  was  evidently 
a  hitch  somewhere,  so  I  asked  my  neighbour  what 
was  the  matter.  Winn,  who  was  to  have  taken  the 
first  bass  part  in  the  glees,  "  The  tiger  couches " 
and  "Queen  of  the  Valley,"  was  unavoidably  absent. 
I  volunteered  my  services  in  his  stead,  which  seemed 
to  surprise  the  other  singers,  as  they  only  knew  I 
was  a  young  singer  fresh  from  Italy,  by  no  means 
a  sufficient  passport  to  their  confidence.  However, 
under  the  circumstances,  they  agreed  I  might  try, 
and  we  began  with  "The  tiger  couches,"  as  the  least 
exigent  of  the  two.  I  looked  it  through,  and  took 
my  place,  and  evidently  satisfied  my  comrades.  I 
afterwards  sang  in  "Queen  of  the  Valley,"  and 
received  high  eulogiums  for  what  I  did  not  deem  a 
great  exhibition  of  prowess. 

Sight-reading  is  a  mechanical  process,  which, 
though  not  absolutely  necessary,  ought  to  be  culti- 
vated by  all  singers,  if  for  no  other  reason  than  to 
save  time  and  trouble  to  themselves  and  those  with 
whom  they  are  studying.  A  singer  who  reads  at 
sight  can  form  a  good  estimate  of  what  he  can  do 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY        171 

with  a  song  or  work  by  glancing  over  it  without  the 
aid  of  an  instrument;  whilst  the  non-reader  must 
either  pick  out  the  notes  on  the  piano,  or  procure  a 
capable  person  to  play  the  song  or  Avork  over  until  he 
becomes  imbued  with  the  spirit  of  the  music  he  wishes 
to  become  acquainted  with.  I  say  it  is  not  absolutely 
necessary  —  I  speak  of  solo-singers;  it  does  not  mat- 
ter whether  the  artist  read  his  music  at  sight  or 
take  months  to  study  it  if  the  result  be  a  finished 
performance.  Though  incontestably  reading  at  sight 
has  its  advantages,  it  has  at  least  one  disadvantage; 
it  offers  an  inducement  to  study  hastily.  I  know, 
at  the  beginning  of  my  career,  I  depended  too  much 
on  my  capability  of  reading,  and  my  performances 
were  often  crude;  whereas  had  I  been  obliged  to 
spend  more  time  in  mastering  the  music,  I  should 
certainly  have  presented  a  better  digested,  and  hence 
more  refined  and  artistic,  execution.  Berlioz,  in 
his  letters,  finds  fault  with  Staudigl  for  trusting 
almost  entirely  to  his  "sight-reading";  and,  speak- 
ing of  his  performance  of  Mephisto  in  the  "  Damna- 
tion de  Faust,"'  says  that  he  consequently  gave  no 
colour  to  the  part. 

For  all  that,  singers,  bearing  in  mind  that  singing 
is  their  principal  study,  ought  to  study,  as  far  as 
their  leisure  and  facilities  will  allow  them,  all 
branches  of  music,  and  learn  an  instrument,  giving 
preference  to  a  stringed  instrument.  It  exercises  the 
ear,  and  does  not  require  the  physical  exertion  the 
pianoforte  exacts,  which  is  sure  to  fatigue  the  voice. 


172         REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

In  the  autumn  of  1858,  the  New  Town  Hall  at 
Leeds  was  opened  by  her  Majesty  the  Queen,  and 
the  ceremony  was  followed  by  a  musical  festival,  for 
which  I  was  engaged.  The  only  important  music  I 
had  was  the  bass  in  Rossini's  "Stabat  Mater."  I 
sang  the  duet,  "The  Lord  is  a  man  of  war,"  from 
"Israel  in  Egypt,"  with  Weiss;  and  I  also  sang  the 
quartettes  in  "Elijah,"  and  one  or  two  pieces  in  the 
miscellaneous  concerts.  My  hopes  revived  of  gain- 
ing a  footing  on  the  stage,  but  for  a  time  were  again 
frustrated.  I  received  a  note  from  Harrison  asking 
if  I  would  entertain  an  engagement  for  the  English 
Opera  for  the  season  1858-59,  and  on  what  terms.  I 
replied  stating  my  willingness,  and  demanding  what 
I  considered  moderate  terms;  his  ideas,  however, 
were  so  much  below  mine  that  I  closed  negotiations. 
I  also  received  a  request  from  Douglas,  the  manager 
of  the  Standard  Theatre,  to  let  him  know  what 
terms  I  would  require  to  play  Count  Arnheim  for 
a  week  with  Sims  Reeves.  I  again  asked  what  I 
thought  a  modest  sum,  and  again  opinions  differed; 
the  sum  he  offered,  ten  pounds,  after  paying  for  hire 
of  dress  and  other  expenses,  would  have  left  me 
little  remuneration  for  the  trouble  of  learning1  the 

O 

part,  rehearsals,  and  six  performances.  There  wa.s 
some  intention  of  engaging  me  for  the  Birmingham 
Festival;  unfortunately,  the  chairman  and  one  of 
the  members  of  the  orchestral  committee  came  to 
London  to  judge  for  themselves  whether  they  could 
engage  me.  The  performance  they  attended  was 


REMINISCENCES    OF   CHARLES   SANTI.EY        173 

one  of  Leslie's  "Immanuel."  I  Avas  not  in  good 
form,  and  sang  very  tamely;  so  they  decided  to 
forego  the  honour  of  introducing  me  to  Birmingham. 
One  of  the  choral  societies  of  that  town  wished  to 
avail  itself  of  my  services  in  a  performance  of  the 
"  Creation "  in  the  early  part  of  the  year,  holding 
out  as  an  inducement,  instead  of  terms,  a  chance 
of  making  a  favourable  impression  on  the  Festival 
committee  with  a  view  to  an  engagement,  an  offer 
which  I  respectfully  declined. 

I  attended  the  Festival,  although  not  engaged,  as 
Chorley's  guest.  Sims  Reeves  was  in  grand  form, 
and  sang  splendidly;  and  Madame  Viardot  Garcia 
made  a  great  impression  on  me  by  her  singing  of 
"Oh,  thou  that  tellest"  in  the  "Messiah,"  an  air  too 
often  treated  with  indifference,  and  in  the  morning 
and  evening  prayers  in  "Eli." 

In  private  concerts  during  the  season,  I  had  the 
honour  of  singing  with  many  of  the  greatest  singers 
of  the  day,  both  belonging  to  the  Italian  Opera  and 
my  own  compatriots.  I  felt  very  like  a  minnow 
among  a  shoal  of  whales,  but  was  not  inclined  to 
be  cast  down.  Their  example  inspired  me  with  ear- 
nestness and  perseverance;  they  could  not  all  have 
been  great  when  they  began  —  why  should  not  I 
rise,  too?  Sims  Reeves  and  Clara  Novello  had 
taken  me  by  the1  hand  from  the  beginning;  so  had 
Costa.  Mario  and  Grisi,  with  whom  I  had  sung 
several  times,  gave  me  great  encouragement. 

As  I  was  returning  one  day  in  the  early  part  of 
the  year  from  a  rehearsal  at  St.  Martin's  Hall,  I  met 


174          REMINISCENCES    OF  CHARLES  S ANT  LEY 

J.  G.  Patey,  just  returned  from  Turin,  where  he 
had  been  singing  at  the  "  Teatro  Rossini,"  Madame 
Lancia  being  one  of  the  company.  We  had  been 
chums  for  some  time  in  Milan,  and  I  was  very  glad 
to  meet  him  and  renew  our  intimacy.  He  hailed  me 
with  "Hullo!  have  you  gone  into  the  Church?"  I 
was  attired  in  a  highly  respectable  black  suit  and 
tall  hat,  and  probably  presented  somewhat  of  a  cleri- 
cal appearance  —  maybe  the  result  of  my  connection 
with  St.  Martin's  and  Exeter  Halls.  He  certainly 
had  nothing  of  the  clerical  about  him;  he  looked 
rather  like  a  cross  between  a  modern  Fra  Diavolo 
and  a  pigeon  fancier,  dressed  in  a  velveteen  jacket 
of  eccentric  cut,  and  trousers  of  a  flashy  hue.  He 
could  not  find  lodgings  at  a  moderate  price  to  suit 
his  taste,  so  I  suggested  he  might  find  such  in  the 
house  where  I  lodged.  He  accompanied  me  home  to 
make  inquiries  and  an  inspection,  which  ended  in 
his  taking  up  his  residence  in  Stafford  Place  with 
me.  We  lived  together  for  about  twelve  months, 
almost  inseparable  companions.  We  frequently 
went  to  the  theatre  and  opera  in  the  evening,  or, 
in  the  summer,  for  a  stroll  in  the  country.  During 
the  week,  Sims  Reeves  was  playing  at  the  Standard 
(mentioned  in  the  previous  chapter);  being  curious 
to  know  what  an  East-end  performance  was  like,  we 
paid  them  a  visit,  arriving  about  the  middle  of  the 
first  act.  We  could  not  find  seats  in  what  were 
denominated  the  "stalls,"  and  ensconced  ourselves 
in  a  passage  which  ran  round  the  pit,  where,  by 
standing  up,  we  could  just  obtain  a  glimpse  of  the 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY        175 

stage.  At  the  conclusion  of  the  act,  we  sought  a 
more  convenient  spot;  but  the  theatre  being  crammed 
full,  we  were  obliged  to  make  the  best  of  the  places 
we  had.  There  was  only  one  other  occupant  of  the 
passage,  and  he  seemed  to  be  enjoying  a  nap  leaning 
on  the  balustrade.  Behind,  we  discovered  a  door- 
way, approached  by  a  step  from  the  floor.  Patey 
mounted  the  step  so  as  to  have  a  better  view  of  the 
stage,  when  he  suddenly  called  out  to  me,  "There's 
something  here  under  my  feet!"  "Take  care!" 
said  I.  "Oh,  it's  quite  hard,"  he  replied;  "see 
what  it  is !  "  I  groped  about  in  the  dark,  and  found 
the  object.  "It's  a  lobster!"  I  informed  him.  No 
sooner  had  I  mentioned  the  fact  than  our  slumbering 
friend  woke  up,  and,  in  a  voice  indicative  of  abuse 
of  stimulants,  exclaimed,  "Yes,  sir;  that's  my 
lobster."  I  remarked  it  was  unsafe  to  leave  any- 
thing good  to  eat  where  it  might  easily  be  trodden 
on  and  spoiled.  He  made  no  further  reply,  but  now 
bestowed  his  attention  on  the  opera.  He  asked  sev- 
eral questions  about  the  singers  on  the  stage.  At 
last,  when  Reeves  was  singing  the  duet  with  Miss 
Ternan  (Arline),  he  asked,  "What  is  that  gentle- 
man's name?"  I  said,  "Mr.  Sims  Reeves."  "Mr. 
What,  sir?"  said  he.  "Mr.  Reeves,"  I  said,  a 
little  louder.  "I  am  very  glad  to  hear  it,  sir,"  said 
he,  looking  greatly  relieved  in  his  mind.  "I  took 
him  for  Mr.  Galier  [so  he  pronounced  Mr.  Galer's 
name],  and  I  am  very  glad  it  isn't;  for  I  thought  if 
it  ^vas  Mr.  Galier,  he'd  fallen  off  considerably  since 
last  I  heard  him." 


CHAPTER   XII 

A  Formidable  Fellow-lodger  —  Engaged  to  Miss  Kemble  —  Henry 
Greville's  Musical  Parties  —  A  Compliment  from  Mario  —  Visit 
to  the  Pateys  in  Devonshire  —  Breakfast  at  a  Private  Lunatic 
Asylum  —  My  Second  Season  —  Married  to  Miss  Gertrude 
Kemble,  April  9,  1859  —  Benefit  Concerts  —  Engaged  at  English 
Opera  —  Meyerbeer's  Approval  —  Bradford  Festival  —  Prepara- 
tions for  "  Dinorah  "  —  Diffidence  and  Despondency  —  Candid 
Criticisms  —  "  II  Trovatore,"  "  The  Rose  of  Castile  "  —  "  Lur- 
line  "  —  Rhubarb  or  Coral  ?  —  A  "  Huguenot  Rush  ''  —  The 
Queen  attends  "  Dinorah  "  —  Concert  at  Windsor  Castle  — 
Wallace's  "  Bellringer." 

SOON  after  Christmas,  1857,  my  landlady  came  to 
my  room  one  morning  with  a  very  grave  face,  and 
informed  me  she  had  a  subject  of  great  importance 
about  which  she  wished  to  consult  me.  I  had  paid 
my  rent  regularty,  and  was  a  little  curious  to  learn 
what  other  subject  could  be  of  much  importance  to 
her.  I  requested  her  to  let  me  know  in  what  I 
could  be  of  service  to  her,  on  which  she  informed 
me  that  her  Majesty's  piper  wished  to  take  a  room 
in  her  house,  and  before  letting  it,  she  would  like 
to  know  whether  a  bagpiper  would  be  an  agreeable 
fellow-lodger.  I  confess  my  affection  for  the  pipes 
did  not  extend  to  a  performance  on  them  in  a  small 
house  in  a  room  immediately  over  my  head,  yet  I 
did  not  wish  to  be  in  the  way  of  my  landlady  secur- 
176 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY        177 

ing  a  good  tenant.  I  suggested  that  if  she  had  no 
fear  of  his  blowing  the  roof  off,  and  he  would 
arrange  to  get  through  his  practising  whilst  I  was 
out,  I  had  no  objection  to  her  accepting  him.  That 
she  had  already  arranged,  so  we  were  forthwith 
honoured  with  a  royal  piper's  company.  I  did  not 
suffer  any  inconvenience  from  his  pipes;  he  prac- 
tised for  an  hour  or  two  generally  whilst  I  was  out 
in  the  evening,  but  I  suffered  from  a  dreadful  fright 
he  caused  me  the  last  night  he  resided  under  the 
same  roof.  It  was  the  night  of  the  ball  at  Bucking- 
ham Palace,  after  the  Princess  Royal's  wedding. 
The  noise  of  the  carriages  kept  me  awake  for  a  long 
time  when  I  went  to  bed,  but  at  last  I  dropped  off 
to  sleep.  I  was  awakened  suddenly  by  a  horrible 
row  going  on  on  the  staircase  leading  up  to  my 
bedroom.  I  heard  somebody,  evidently  very  drunk, 
shouting:  "Let  me  at  him:  I'll  soon  pull  him 
out!"  interlarding  his  threats  with  certain  epithets 
which  I  do  not  think  were  of  Highland  origin. 
Then  I  distinguished  the  mild  voice  of  my  landlady 
beseeching  the  drunken  scamp  to  have  some  consid- 
eration for  her  other  lodger.  More  epithets  ensued, 
and  a  tussle  in  which  Mat-Snifter,  or  whatever  his 
name  was.  rolled  down  a  few  stairs.  After  a  great 
deal  of  coaxing  and  pushing,  he  was  at  last  landed 
at  the  door  of  his  bedroom,  into  which  he  fell  head- 
foremost, and  as  I  heard  no  more  of  Jiim  I  concluded 
he  slept  off  the  effects  of  his  potations  in  his  kilt  on 
the  floor.  He  was  very  penitent  next  morning;  he 


178        REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  S ANT  LEY 

insisted  he  had  only  drunk  one  glass  of  whisky  — 
it  must  have  been  a  mighty  big  one  —  but  my  land- 
lady was  inexorable,  and  insisted  upon  his  vacating 
instanter! 

I  was  engaged  to  Miss  Kemble  in  the  summer  of 
1858,  and  in  consequence  became  a  frequent  guest 
at  her  aunt's  house,  where  I  made  the  acquaintance 
of  Henry  Greville,  in  whom  I  found  a  warm  admirer 
and  staunch  friend.  He  gave  very  select  musical 
parties  in  which  I  was  always  invited  to  take  part, 
having  the  good  fortune  to  be  associated  with  Mario, 
Grisi,  Gardoni,  Ciabatta,  Schira,  Pinsuti,  etc.,  with 
whom  I  was  soon  on  terms  of  intimacy  and  accepted 
as  their  comrade  and  friend.  H.R.H.  the  late 
Duchess  of  Cambridge  was  always  present,  attended 
by  one  or  both  of  her  daughters.  The  guests 
included  the  highest  in  culture,  rank  and  wealth; 
the  programme  was  of  moderate  dimensions,  and  the 
little  reunion  of  intimates  in  the  supper-room,  after 
the  bulk  of  the  guests  had  departed,  Avas  delightful. 
On  one  occasion  I  arrived  very  early,  Mrs.  Sartoris 
arriving  soon  after,  while  there  were  still  very  few 
people  in  the  room.  I  was  to  sing  a  duet  with  her, 
and  we  were  having  a  little  conversation  on  the 
subject,  when  suddenly  she  exclaimed :  "  Good  God ! 
Santley,  what  shall  I  do?"  "What's  the  matter?" 
I  said.  "My  petticoat's  coming  down,"  was  her 
response.  "Well,"  I  said,  "I  don't  see  how  I  can 
help  you!"  "/do,"  she  said;  "stand  before  me 
and  spread  out  your  coat-tails  as  wide  as  you  can !  " 


I  obeyed,  pretending  to  be  absorbed  in  the  study  of 
the  duet  which  was  lying  on  the  piano.  In  a  few 
moments  she  whispered:  "It's  all  right,  but  what 
on  earth  am  I  to  do  with  it  ? "  I  looked  at  the 
bundle  and  saw  it  was  impossible  to  pocket  it;  at 
that  moment  Leighton  made  his  appearance,  carry- 
ing his  hat  in  his  hand.  "  Just  in  time  to  save 
me!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Sartoris.  "Here,  Fay,  put 
that  in  your  hat  and  keep  it  till  we  get  away!" 
"  What  is  it? "  "  My  petticoat !  "  "  Oh !  " 

One  evening  I  sang  the  romance  UO  Lisbona " 
from  "Don  Sebastiano  ";  the  Duchess  of  Cambridge 
was  so  pleased,  she  asked  me  to  repeat  it,  which  I 
did  at  the  end  of  the  programme.  Grisi  turned  to 
Mario  and  remarked:  "What  a  splendid  voice,  eh 
Mario?"  He  replied  quickly:  "Say  rather  he  has 
made  good  use  of  the  voice  given  him,  and  sings 
well."  I  felt  very  proud  of  and  greatly  encouraged 
by  praise  from  the  two  most  prominent  singers  of 
the  day. 

The  London  season  finished,  I  accompanied  Patey 
to  Plympton,  Devonshire,  on  a  visit  to  his  father. 
We  passed  the  time  very  pleasantly,  walking  and 
tishing  (I  do  not  think  1  caught  a  single  fish) 
during  the  day.  and  generally  spending  the  evening 
at  a  pleasant  party  at  one  neighbour's  house  or 
another.  The  last  day  of  our  visit  we  went  to 
breakfast  at  the  house  of  a  doctor,  a  particular  friend 
of  Mr.  Patey,  and  an  eminent  physician.  We  were 
ushered  on  our  arrival  into  the  drawing-room,  where, 


180        REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  S ANT  LEY 

to  my  surprise,  I  found  a  large  number  of  guests 
assembled.  At  breakfast  I  was  placed  alongside  of 
a  stout  middle-aged  gentleman,  who  occupied  him- 
self, during  the  repast,  in  carving  a  huge  round  of 
beef,  with  a  knife  half  a  yard  long.  I  conversed 
with  him  about  the  beauty  of  the  country,  the  fine 
walks,  etc. ;  he  and  everybody  present  seemed  to  be 
exceedingly  cheerful  and  chatty,  and  the  doctor,  our 
host,  very  attentive  and  hospitable.  On  our  road 
home,  I  remarked  upon  the  number  of  guests  invited 
to  meet  us.  "Oh!"  said  Patey  junior,  ''they  are 
chiefly  his  patients."  I  remarked  it  was  rather 
strange  to  ask  all  his  patients.  "  But  they  live 
there,"  said  he.  "How  extraordinary  I"  I  replied. 
"Not  at  all,"  said  Pate}-;  "don't  you  know  where 
you  have  been  breakfasting?"  "At  your  friend's 
house."  "Why,"  said  he,  "that  is  a  private  lunatic 
asylum!"  "And  my  neighbour  who  carved  the 
beef?"  "One  of  the  patients."  I  ruminated. 

As  I  could  not  come  to  terms  with  the  managers 
of  the  English  Opera,  I  had  again  to  turn  all  my 
attention  to  concert  and  oratorio  singing.  My 
second  season  was  somewhat  of  a  repetition  of  my 
first,  with  an  increase  of  public  favour,  as  my  name 
became  better  known,  and  a  consequent  and  consid- 
erable increase  in  my  work. 

On  the  9th  April  I  was  married  to  Gertrude 
Kemble  —  on  expectations  —  for  all  I  possessed  was 
£10,  and  I  had  still  the  greater  part  of  my  debt 
to  my  father  to  pay  off.  I  fortunately  had  a  large 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY        181 

number  of  engagements,  public  and  private.  I  also 
sang  in  a  great  many  benefit  concerts  gratis,  which 
I  now  consider  a  great  mistake.  To  help  an  unfort- 
unate deserving  comrade,  or  assist  in  the  cause  of 
charity,  is  the  duty  of  everybody;  but  gratuitously 
to  assist  adventurers  for  their  own  benefit,  or  osten- 
sibly for  that  of  a  charitable  institution,  is  not  the 
duty  of  anybody.  London  during  the  season  was 
infested  by  a  band  of  marauders  from  foreign  climes, 
who  came  down  like  "wolves  on  the  fold,"  ready  to 
give  their  services  (God  save  the  mark!)  in  any 
house  where  they  might  gain  an  introduction  —  not 
a  difficult  matter  —  the  insinuating  and  not  easily 
abashed  stranger  finding  favour  and  patronage  where 
a  native  would  never  obtain  recognition.  They 
gave  lessons  —  at  least,  they  called  them  so  —  and 
ended  by  giving  a  concert,  generally  in  the  drawing- 
room  of  some  rich  patron ;  when  all  those  in  whose 
parties  they  had  assisted  gratuitously  were  bound  to 
take  tickets,  thus  netting  a  more  or  less  considerable 
profit,  afterwards  returning  to  their  "lares  et  pe- 
nates,"  very  often  to  descant  upon  the  gullibility  and 
lack  of  taste  of  the  barbarous  Briton.  There  were, 
of  course,  some  foreign  artists  whose  visits  to  Lon- 
don during  the  season  were  always  welcome,  who 
exercised  their  talents  in  a  legitimate  way,  and  who, 
unless  on  terms  of  sufficient  intimacy  to  expect  it, 
or  in  a  position  to  offer  adequate  services  in  return, 
would  not  stoop  to  make  importunate  demands  on 
their  fellow-artists.  Why  should  artists  be  called 


182         REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

upon  to  give  their  services  for  the  benefit  of  chari- 
table institutions?  Those  who  purchase  tickets  for 
such  entertainments  receive  ample  return  in  amuse- 
ment for  the  amount  expended ;  that  is  not  charity, 
and  the  promoters  do  little  more,  if  anything,  than 
enlist  the  sympathies  of  those  who  provide  the 
entertainment.  In  some  cases  the  promoter  is  a 
neglected  genius,  who,  seeking  a  field  wherein  to 
display  his  talents,  importunes  every  artist  of  posi- 
tion with  whom  he  may  have  a  bowing  acquaintance, 
to  assist  him  in  the  cause  of  charity,  that  he  may 
reap  the  benefit  derived  from  cheap  (for  him)  and 
wide-spread  advertisement.  In  both  cases  the  char- 
ity is  entirely  on  the  part  of  the  artists  who  sing  or 
perform ;  this  surely  is  not  just. 

I  do  not  share  the  opinion  of  maii}^  that  a  for- 
eigner has  no  right  to  come  to  England  to  take  the 
"bread  and  butter"  out  of  the  mouth  of  the  native. 
I  do  not  believe  any  foreign  artist  ever  deprived  me 
of  an  ounce  of  food.  An  artist  has  no  nationality, 
he  is  the  property  of  the  world,  and  has  a  perfect 
right  to  exercise  his  profession  in  any  country  where 
he  finds  a  public  desirous  of  hearing  or  seeing  him. 
It  is  not  of  such  I  have  spoken  above ;  it  is  of  the 
impertinent  interloper,  who  unable  to  make  a  posi- 
tion in  his  own  country,  with  audacious  pertinacity 
throws  dust  in  the  eyes  of  the  foolish  but  benevolent 
would-be  patron  of  art  in  England. 

Negotiations  were  pending  for  my  appearance  at 
the  English  Opera  during  the  season  of  1859-60,  to 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY        183 

open  with  Meyerbeer's  "Dinorah,"  translated  by 
H.  F.  Chorley.  I  learned  afterwards  that  there  were 
some  doubts  about  entrusting  the  part  of  Hoel  to 
me,  which  were  dispelled  on  my  singing  for  Meyer- 
beer at  a  party  at  Lady  Molesworth's  house.  He 
expressed  himself  perfectly  satisfied,  and  a  desire 
that  I  would  undertake  the  part,  with  the  result 
that  my  engagement  was  arranged. 

The  last  Bradford  festival  was  held  in  August.  I 
was  engaged  as  second  to  Belletti;  my  work  was 
light.  I  sang  in  the  quartettes  in  "St.  Paul."  a  por- 
tion of  the  bass  music  in  "Judas  Maccabseiis"  and 
"The  Messiah,"  and  in  some  concerted  music  in  the 
evening  programmes.  The  most  remarkable  feature 
in  the  festival  was  the  devotion  of  the  "  White 
Roses''  to  the  "ould  gal."  as  Mis.  Sumlerland1  was 
familiarly  styled. 

After  a  short  holiday  in  the  Xorth  of  France,  I 
returned  to  London  full  of  my  new  venture.  I  was 
not  over-sanguine  about  my  success,  yet  hoped  all 
would  go  well,  and  that  the  great  desire  I  had  of 
gaining  a  footing  on  the  operatic  stage  might  be 
realized.  I  had  seen  "Dinorah"  at  the  Italian 
Opera,  and  was  charmed  with  the  music.  I  became 
still  more  enthusiastic  about  it  when  I  came  to 
study  my  part ;  but  I  also  grew  more  diffident  about 
my  powers  as  I  discovered  the  histrionic  difficulties 

1  Mrs.  Sunderland  was  a  native  of  Yorkshire  :  she  possessed  a 
pure,  brilliant  soprano  voice,  and  sang  -well  although  her  style 
lacked  polish.  She  was  a  great  favourite  all  over  the  north  of 
England,  but,  for  some  cause  I  cannot  explain,  did  not  find  a  place 
amongst  the  singers  in  the  capital. 


184         REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

it  presented.  I  received  the  first  act  and  a  call  for 
rehearsal  for  the  next  day  simultaneously;  I  spent 
the  whole  of  the  intervening  time  studying  hard, 
and  was  able  to  go  through  my  part  almost  perfectly 
by  heart.  In  the  two  following  days  I  did  the  same 
with  the  concerted  music  of  the  second  and  third 
acts,  and  by  the  end  of  the  week  had  no  longer  need 
of  the  score.  The  dialogue  cost  me  infinitely  more 
labour;  I  had  not  much  difficulty  in  learning  the 
words,  but  between  hearing  the  sound  of  my  speak- 
ing voice  in  the  large  theatre  and  attending  to  the 
stage  manager's  directions,  I  grew  so  confused  that 
I  almost  despaired  of  being  able  to  deliver  them. 
With  patience  and  perseverance  I  accomplished  it 
at  last,  and  went  through  the  opera  the  first  night 
without  a  slip.  Histrionically  I  know  my  per- 
formance was  feeble,  though  I  hardly  merited  the 
sweeping  condemnation  of  a  celebrated  critic  who 
announced  that  "  Mr.  Santley  sang  his  music  well, 
but  has  neither  stage  face,  stage  walk,  nor  stage 
anything,  and  never  can  become  an  actor."  My 
father  came  to  London  to  be  present  at  my  first 
appearance  unknown  to  me.  He  came  to  my  dress- 
ing-room at  the  conclusion  of  the  second  perform- 
ance. His  remarks  were  few,  but  telling  —  "You 
need  not  have  made  such  a  guy  of  yourself  "  (it  was 
not  my  doing,  but  the  barber's  AY  ho  made  me  up); 
subsequently  adding,  "Well,  lad,  you  are  not  an 
Edmund  Kean  yet"  (not  even  a  Charles  ditto,  I 
thought  to  myself). 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY        185 

After  I  had  been  playing  the  part  every  night  for 
a  week  —  we  had  not  arrived  at  the  halcyon  times 
when  two  artists  play  the  same  part  on  alternate 
nights  —  I  received  a  visit  from  an  intimate  musical 
acquaintance  —  one  of  those  kind  friends  who  insist 
upon  giving  a  candid  opinion,  "the  truth,  the  whole 
truth,  and  nothing  but  the  truth,"  according  to 
their  lights  —  who  came  to  condole  with  me  on  the 
unfortunate  mistake  I  had  made  in  quitting  the 
concert-room.  He  also  was  of  opinion  that  I  could 
never  make  an  actor.  I  ventured  to  suggest  he 
might  be  mistaken ;  it  was  rather  early  to  judge, 
and  I  told  him  I  did  not  expect  to  become  an  actor 
without  experience.  He  then  asked  how  long  I 
intended  to  give  myself  to  gain  the  necessary  experi- 
ence. I  said  that  if  in  ten  years  I  could  feel  myself 
at  home  on  the  stage  I  should  be  well  satisfied. 
Only  three  years,  or  little  more,  after  the  same 
gentleman  acknowledged  he  had  been  mistaken.  It 
certainly  was  not  intended  I  should  be  spoiled  by 
flattery.  I  am  quite  aware,  as  I  have  said,  that  my 
performance  was  tame,  but  it  was  the  tameness  of 
diffidence  about  my  execution  of  what  I  had  con- 
ceived, not  lack  of  spirit  or  energy.  I  had  a  long 
and  difficult  part  to  sing,  had  had  slight  experience 
on  the  stage,  and  the  major  portion  of  the  opera  I 
had  to  play  with  a  man  who,  though  not  an  accom- 
plished, was  an  experienced  actor,  and  was  wont 
at  times  to  take  advantage  of  the  inexperience  of  a 
comrade.  But  I  think  excuses  are  unnecessary.  A 


186         REMINISCENCES    OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

man  cannot  become  an  actor  any  more  than  he  can 
become  a  barrister  or  a  preacher  without  much 
experience,  however  gifted  he  may  be.  I  have 
heard  of  born  actors,  but  I  never  saw  one;  I  have 
seen  some  who  were  born  to  be  actors,  and  fulfilled 
their  destiny  by  unceasing  toil  and  perseverance; 
and  I  have  seen  others  born  with  great  natural  gifts 
who  ought  to  have  become  actors,  but  lacking 
earnestness  and  industry  have  never  risen  above 
mediocrity. 

After  thirty  nights  of  "Dinorah,"  by  way  of  rest 
I  sang  in  the  English  version  of  "II  Trovatore," 
"The  Rose  of  Castille,"  "Satanella,"  etc.  At 
Christmas  we  brought  out  a  small  opera  by  Alfred 
Mellon,  entitled  "  Victorine."  During  the  run  of 
this  work  Halle*  produced  Gluck's  "Iphigenie  en 
Tauride,"  English  version  by  Chorley,  at  his  con- 
certs in  Manchester,  with  Catherine  Hayes,  Sims 
Reeves,  myself,  and  Winn.  I  was  able  to  accept 
the  engagement,  as  during  the  pantomime  season  I 
was  only  engaged  four  nights  a  week  at  Covent 
Garden.  To  close  the  season  Wallace's  "Lurline" 
was  produced,  which  proved  a  great  success,  both 
artistically  and  financially.  One  morning,  whilst 
we  were  rehearsing  it,  I  found  the  scene  set  for  the 
second  act,  supposed  to  be  under  the  Rhine.  Notic- 
ing what  appeared  to  me  to  be  a  quantity  of  magni- 
fied sticks  of  red  rhubarb  hanging  about,  I  asked 
Fitzball,  the  author  of  the  libretto,  who  was  stand- 
ing by,  if  they  were  really  intended  to  represent 


REMINISCENCES    OF   CHARLES  SA.VTLEY        187 

that  wholesome  plant.  He  replied  they  were  to 
represent  coral!  "But,"  .said  I,  "do  they  find  coral 
in  the  Rhine  —  red  coral?"  "Of  course  dot,"  he 
replied  (he  had  an  infirmity  of  the  nasal  organ); 
''that  is  all  robadce;  I  ab  very  robadtic.  I  was 
brought  up  a  huddred  biles  frob  the  hauclts  of  bad, 
that  is  why  I  ab  so  robadtic."  \\V  had,  as  usual,  a 
stage-manager,  who  did  not  deem  it  necessary  to 
study  the  drama  and  prepare  the  situations.  At  one 
of  the  last  rehearsals  we  all  got  into  a  muddle  in  the 
finale  of  the  second  act;  nobody  seemed  to  know 
what  to  do,  so  we  all  stood  still,  which  gave  promise 
of  a  most  thrilling  effect  on  the  audience.  Suddenly 
Harrison  wras  seized  with  an  inspiration.  "Stop! 
stop!"  he  cried  out.  "Stirling!"  "Yes  sir!" 
"Cannot  we  have  a  Huguenot  rush  here?"  "Cer- 
tainly, sir,  the  very  thing  I  was  thinking  of 
myself!"  "Now  then,  all  of  you,  be  ready,"  and 
at  a  given  signal  we  all  rushed  down  to  the  foot- 
lights as  though  we  had  been  going  to  annihilate 
Mellon  and  the  whole  of  the  orchestra.  It  brought 
the  house  down  every  night  we  played  the  opera.  I 
nearly  came  to  a  premature  end  in  this  scene ;  I  had 
to  catch  Lurline.  Miss  Pyne,  in  my  arms  as  she 
swooned  on  the  departure  of  her  lover;  she  stopped 
short  of  the  usual  spot  one  evening,  and  I  did  not 
notice  it  until  I  received  a  gentle  hint  on  my  crown 
from  the  roller  of  the  curtain.  Fortunately  my  head 
was  bent  down,  and  did  not  receive  the  full  force  of 
the  blow;  everybody  screamed  and  thought  I  was 


188         REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

killed.  I  saw  all  the  constellations  in  the  firma- 
ment, so  it  appeared  to  me.  I  was  stunned,  but  in 
a  few  moments  I  recovered  myself  and  finished  my 
part.  Her  Majesty  the  Queen  expressed  a  wish  to 
witness  one  of  the  performances,  and  requested  to  be 
furnished  with  a  list  of  the  operas  we  were  playing. 
She  chose  "Dinorah,"  for  which  I  had  a  new  dress 
and  a  more  respectable  make-up.  I  was  gratified  to 
L'urn  that  her  Majesty  and  H.R.H.  the  Prince  Con- 
sort both  approved  of  my  performance.  I  was 
engaged,  in  consequence,  I  presume,  for  the  next 
royal  concert  which  took  place  at  Windsor  Castle, 
when  Haydn's  setting  of  the  seven  last  words  of 
our  Saviour  was  performed.  After  the  close  of 
the  season,  Louisa  Pyne,  Harrison,  and  I  sang  at 
Augustus  Harris  senior's  benefit  at  the  Princess's. 
Wallace  accompanied.  He  had  spoken  to  me  more 
than  once  about  taking  up  his  song  "The  Bell- 
ringer,"  so  deeming  this  a  fitting  opportunity  to  try 
it,  I  asked  him  to  send  me  a  copy,  which  I  received 
on  the  morning  of  the  benefit.  I  did  not  feel  very 
confident  about  doing  it  justice  with  so  little  study, 
but  it  turned  out  to  be  my  first  great  concert  success. 
For  the  winter  of  1860-61  I  was  engaged  at  Her 
Majesty's  Theatre  to  sing  with  Madame  Lemmens 
Sherrington  and  Sims  Reeves;  Mile.  Parepa,  Swift, 
George  Honey,  and  J.  G.  Patey  were  also  of  the 
company,  and  Charles  Halle*  was  conductor.  We 
produced  Macfarren's  "  Robin  Hood "  to  open  the 
season,  and  Wallace's  "Amber  Witch"  to  close  it. 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SAXTLEY        189 

In  the  interim,  whilst  the  pantomime  was  running, 
we  brought  out  "La  Reine  Topaze,"  and  also  played 
"The  Bohemian  Girl,"  "The  Trovatore,"  and  "Fra 
Diavolo."  "Robin  Hood,'' with  Sims  Reeves,  who 
returned  to  the  stage  after  some  years'  absence,  was 
a  success;  the  "Amber  Witch/'  although  it  con- 
tained some  fine  music,  was  not.  I  sang  in  it  at 
Drury  Lane  for  some  three  or  four  weeks  after  the 
season  at  Her  Majesty's  Theatre  had  closed,  to 
almost  empty  benches.  "Queen  Topaz"  might  have 
proved  a  fair  success  if  some  care  had  been  taken  in 
its  production.  Swift,  who  played  the  hero,  never 
knew  his  part,  neither  music  nor  dialogue.  There 
was  no  attempt  at  stage  management;  we  all  wan- 
dered on  and  off  and  about  the  stage  as  we  pleased. 
The  effect  produced  was  very  curious  —  neither 
} (layers  nor  audience  seemed  to  have  the  remotest 
notion  what  it  was  all  about.  The  stage  manage- 
ment throughout  that  season  was  the  most  perfect  — 
of  its  kind  —  I  ever  knew.  At  one  performance  of 
"  Fra  Diavolo "  matters  were  so  well  arranged  that 
principals,  chorus,  supers,  etc.,  were  all  left  outside 
the  curtain  at  the  end  of  the  first  act.  At  one  of 
the  rehearsals  of  the  "Amber  Witch/'  the  stage- 
manager  showed  off  to  peculiar  advantage.  In  the 
last  act,  the  so-called  witch,  finding  herself  menaced 
by  a  number  of  peasants  who  believe  her  really  to  be 
a  sorceress,  to  rid  herself  of  the  annoyance,  conceives 
the  idea  of  acting  on  their  superstitious  fears,  and 
sings  or  recites  a  Latin  prayer;  this  they  take  for  a 


190         REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

spell,  and  hurry  away,  leaving  her  in  peace.  Mr. 
Stage-manager,  hearing  the  prayer,  called  out, 
"Don't  you  hear,  she's  praying?  down  on  your 
knees!"  I  happened  to  know  the  situation  from 
Chorley,  the  author  of  the  libretto,  and  took  upon 
myself  to  point  out  the  mistake.  The  stage- mana- 
ger merely  remarked,  "  How  the  devil  should  I 
know  anything  about  it,  I  have  never  read  the 
book!  Here,  you  chorus,  it's  a  spell  to  frighten 
you,  so  as  soon  as  your  hear  the  first  words  clear  off 
as  fast  as  you  can !  " 

One  evening  we  were  playing  ""  The  Bohemian 
Girl,"  with  Parepa,  Parkinson,  etc.,  to  a  meagre 
house.  Everything  was  very  dull,  and  the  audience 
was  very  apathetic.  At  the  beginning  of  the  last 
act  Parepa  and  I  were  singing  the  duet;  she  had 
just  concluded  her  opening  phrase,  and  I  was  pre- 
paring to  upbraid  her,  when  a  dog  which  belonged 
to  the  repgtiteur,  and  accompanied  him  always  to 
rehearsal,  trotted  on  to  the  stage,  and  squatted  on 
his  haunches  in  front  of  me,  staring  me  in  the  face. 
The  enthusiasm  of  the  audience  was  roused  immedi- 
ately. I  felt  horribly  indignant,  and  tried  to  drive 
the  beast  away  with  my  foot;  my  kicks  he  treated 
with  silent  contempt.  There  he  remained  until  I 
concluded  my  cadence,  when  he  rose  up,  wagged  his 
tail,  and  walked  quietly  into  the  wings. 

For  the  summer  season  of  1861  E.  T.  Smith,  the 
then  lessee  of  Her  Majesty's  Theatre,  had  engaged  a 
company  such  as  had  never  been  heard  of.  Grisi 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES   SANTLEY        191 

had  retired  from  Covent  Garden,  and  was  bound  not 
to  sing  again  in  London ;  Mario  had  signed  a  con- 
tract with  Gye,  so  the  two  were  engaged  by  Smith 
to  sing  in  an  opera  at  the  Crystal  Palace.  The  host 
of  talent  included  Adelina  Patti,  who  was  to  make 
her  first  appearance  in  England.  I  was  to  make  my 
first  appearance  on  the  Italian  stage,  and.  amongst 
other  operas,  was  announced  to  sing  in  Verdi's 
"  Macbeth "  with  Grisi.  I  was  greatly  troubled 
when  I  read  this,  and  remonstrated  with  Brizzi,1 
who  had  much  to  do  with  the  arrangement  of  the 
programme,  on  the  folly  of  my  undertaking  to  play 
such  a  part  as  "Macbeth."  My  fears  were  soon 
dispelled,  for  Smith  came  to  grief,  and  the  monster 
programme  ended  in  smoke. 

Mapleson  then  took  the  Lyceum,  for  which  he  had 
secured  a  good  card  in  the  "  Ballo  in  Maschera." 
new  for  England.  He  asked  me  to  transfer  mv 
engagement  with  Smith  to  him,  and  make  my  debut 
in  Italian  opera  in  the  part  of  Renato;  but  I  was  not 
satisfied  that  I  had  had  sufficient  experience  to  do  it 
justice,  so  1  declined.  I  had  read  that  Delle  Sedie, 
whom  I  had  heard  in  Milan  in  1S.">.~>.  was  in  Paris;  I 
recommended  him  to  Mapleson.  Whether  in  conse- 
quence of  my  recommendation  or  not,  I  do  not 
know :  he  was  engaged,  and  made  a  great  success. 

1  Brizzi  had  been  a  tenor  singer  of  some  repute.  At  the  time 
I  knew  him.  lie  had  almost  retired  from  public  singing  and  gave 
lessons.  He  was  on  terms  of  intimacy  with  most  of  the  celebrated 
Italian  artists,  and  in  consequence  was  of  great  service  to  Smith  in 
his  negotiations  with  them. 


192         REMINISCENCES    OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

He  was  afterwards  engaged  at  Covent  Garden, 
where  he  sang  several  seasons,  and  became  a  great 
favourite. 

This  year  I  made  my  first  appearance  at  Birming- 
ham festival,  Belletti  being  principal  bass.  He 
declined  to  sing  in  "Elijah,"  so  it  fell  to  my  lot. 
I  had  studied  the  part  a  great  deal  since  I  first  sang 
it  in  London,  and  I  thought  I  had  made  a  consider- 
able improvement,  both  in  my  conception  and  exe- 
cution of  it.  Costa  expressed  his  satisfaction  to  me 
at  the  conclusion  of  the  oratorio.  The  following 
morning  I  found  a  newspaper  lying  by  my  plate  on 
the  breakfast-table.  I  incautiously  opened  it  and 
read,  in  a  notice  of  the  performance,  "  From  the 
opening  bars  of  the  first  recitative  we  knew  Mr. 
Santley  in  'Elijah'  was  a  mistake;  to  do  justice  to 
the  part  requires  a  bass,  and  Mr.  Santley  is  a  mere 
baritone.  Mr.  Santley  endeavoured  to  make  up  for 
lack  of  voice  with  energetic  declamation,  but  it  was 
of  no  use,"  etc.  I  had  read  very  little  in  the  way  of 
criticism  on  my  performances  before,  -and  I  then 
made  a  resolution,  which  with  rare  exceptions.  I 
have  adhered  to,  to  avoid  reading  any  in  future. 
There  evidently  was  some  discussion  about  my  per- 
formance. Costa  told  me  he  had  had  an  altercation 
with  a  gentleman  at  dinner,  who  contended  that, 
because  I  was  only  a  baritone,  I  could  not  sing  the 
part  of  "Elijah."  Costa  was  not  a  talkative  man  on 
such  subjects,  but  he  said  sufficient  to  lead  me  to 
understand  that  his  antagonist  got  the  worst  of  the 
argument. 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY        193 

I  returned  to  Co  vent  Garden  for  the  season  of 
1861-62,  which  opened  with  Howard  Glover's  "Ruy 
Bias.''  On  the  Saturday  it  was  to  have  been  pro- 
duced I  had  not  received  the  whole  of  my  part  "  Don 
Sallust,"  nor  did  I  until  the  Tuesday  following,  the 
opera  being  first  performed  on  the  Thursday,  two 
days  after ;  the  parts  for  the  overture  were  given  out 
for  rehearsal  that  very  day  at  half-past  four  after  the 
general  rehearsal  was  finished.  The  opera  contained 
one  or  two  effective  numbers,  but  was  not  a  success ; 
however,  it  proved  of  great  benefit  to  me,  as  owing 
to  the  advice  and  hints  of  my  friend  Walter  Lacy, 
who  had  played  the  part,  with  great  success,  with 
Fechter  at  the  Princess's,  I  made  my  first  step  his- 
trionically. I  met  with  an  accident  in  this  opera 
which  nearly  ended  fatally.  Harrison  and  I  played 
the  last  scene  as  arranged  by  Fechter.  Ruy  Bias  at 
the  end  of  the  duel  stabs  Don  Sallust  and  throws 
him  through  a  window  at  the  back  of  the  scene. 
Harrison  incautiously  used  a  real  dagger,  and  one 
night  stabbed  me  in  the  side ;  I  had  the  presence  of 
mind  to  put  my  hand  behind  me  as  I  fell,  and  draw 
the  dagger  away.  I  did  not  take  any  notice  of  the 
wound  until  the  next  day,  when  it  pained  me;  I 
then  showed  it  to  my  doctor  who,  after  probing  it, 
told  me  it  was  very  lucky  I  was  so  well  covered 
with  adipose  tissue,  otherwise  the  dagger  would 
have  pierced  the  lung.  A  reproduction  of  "Robin 
Hood  "  with  Madame  Guerrabella  (Genevieve  Ward), 
Haigh,  Honey,  and  myself  followed;  it  did  not 


194         REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

prove  attractive  and  was  played  alternately  with 
operas  of  the  repertoire,  until  the  production  of 
Balfe's  "Puritan's  Daughter,"  about  the  beginning 
of  December,  which  had  a  run  of  fifty-seven  nights. 
I  found  it  veiy  tiresome  singing  the  same  music 
night  after  night,  especially  the  ballad  with  its 
inevitable  "  encore. " 

The  other  novelty  produced  was  Benedict's  opera, 
the  "Lily  of  Killarney."  There  was  so  little  to  do 
in  the  first  act,  that  I  was  inclined  at  first  to  refuse 
the  part,  whatever  the  consequences  might  be,  and 
they  were  dire  according  to  the  rules  of  the  theatre, 
a  copy  of  which  was  attached  to  each  engagement, 
all  one-sided  in  favour  of  the  manager.  But  my 
indignation  was  set  at  rest  when  Benedict  showed 
what  he  had  done  for  his  "  dear  boy  "  in  the  second 
act;  I  was  cut  out  of  the  third  for  reasons  which 
it  is  not  necessary  to  explain.  I  was  fortunate  in 
having  the  assistance  of  the  only  capable  stage- 
manager  I  ever  had  to  work  with,  William,  or  as  he 
was  always  familiarly  called,  Billy  West.  He  gave 
me  a  lesson  at  one  of  the  rehearsals  I  never  forgot. 
I  was  always  nervous  and  fidgetty  at  stage  rehear- 
sals, to  cover  which  I  assumed  a  vivacious  non- 
chalant air  which  I  did  not  possess.  The  first  day 
we  rehearsed  the  "  Lily  "  on  the  stage  I  was  playing 
the  fool  somewhat,  whilst  Billy  was  eyeing  me  very 
gravely.  At  last  he  stepped  up  to  me,  and  said 
quietly:  "My  boy,  you  have  the  finest  part  in  this 
opera;  if  you  set  to  work  steadily,  and  attend  to  me, 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY        195 

you  will  make  a  great  part  of  it ;  but  if  you  insist 
on  playing  the  fool  in  that  manner,  you  will  make 
nothing  of  it.  Remember  there  is  one  step  from  the 
sublime  to  the  ridiculous,  and  if  you  are  not  careful 
you  will  make  it."  I  put  aside  my  hat  and  cane, 
and  set  to  work  in  earnest,  and  never  again  was  I 
tempted  to  indulge  in  fooling  at  rehearsal.  ANY 
played  the  "  Lily "  for  five  or  six  weeks,  every 
night.  Danny  Man  is  a  very  exigent  part,  and  I 
was  not  sorry  when  the  season  came  to  an  end,  for 
I  was  beginning  to  feel  fatigue.  I  had  sung  every 
night  of  the  season  from  the  end  of  September  until 
the  week  before  Easter  except  two  —  one  night  when 
"Maritana"  was  given  with  Madame  Guerrabella, 
and  one  night  when  I  had  a  violent  cold. 


CHAPTER   XIII 

1862:  an  Eventful  Year  —  Costa  suggests  Italian  Opera  —  I  start 
for  Italy — My  Visit  to  Rossini  in  Paris  —  Recalled  to  London 
by  an  Offer  from  Gye  —  Costa' s  Advice  in  regard  to  Engagements 

—  Costa's  Rebuke  to  Tamberlik  —  An  Inauspicious  Rehearsal 

—  Costa  on  Artistic  Jealousy  —  A  Flattering  Reception  and  an 
Unfounded  Charge  —  Engaged  by  Mapleson  —  A  Bad  Start  at 
Her  Majesty's  —  A  Difficult  Part  —  Concurrent  Engagements  at 
Her  Majesty's  and  Covent  Garden  —  Production  of  Wallace's 
"  Love's  Triumph  "  —  Charles  Lucas's  Prophecy  —  My  Last  Eng- 
lish Opera  at  Covent  Garden  —  Balfe's  "  Armourer  of  Nantes  " 

—  A  Free  Performance  and  a  Stupid  Audience  —  A  Curious  Bet 

—  Four  Seasons'  Work  —  English  Opera,  Old  and  New  Styles  — 
George  Honey  —  St.  Albyn  —  Palgrave  Simpson  and  Harrison. 

THE  year  1862  proved  a  very  eventful  one  for  me. 
As  I  have  said  before,  I  found  singing  an  opera  every 
night  very  fatiguing;  not  the  physical  exertion, 
though,  besides  the  singing  on  a  large  stage  like  that 
at  Covent  Garden,  the  mere  going  through  a  long 
opera  entails  no  small  amount  of  bodily  exercise,  but 
on  account  of  the  expenditure  of  nervous  force.  I 
could  never  do  anything  by  halves ;  if  I  went  down 
to  the  theatre  determined  to  spare  myself  except  in 
the  more  important  points,  I  had  only  been  a  short 
time  on  the  stage,  and  got  warmed  to  my  work  when 
all  idea  of  saving  myself  was  cast  to  the  winds.  Five 
months  of  such  continuous  excitement,  with  the  addi- 
196 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY        197 

tion  of  study  and  rehearsal  of  new  parts,  and  the 
worries  which  it  would  appear  are  inevitable  in  a 
theatrical  career,  would  tell  on  the  most  robust  frame. 
Towards  the  end  of  the  English  opera  season  I  called 
to  have  a  chat  with  Costa,  in  the  course  of  which  I 
mentioned  this  subject,  at  the  same  time  explaining 
the  difficulty  of  altering  the  system ;  nobody  would 
believe  in  the  feasibility  of  breaking  the  run  of  an 
opera  even  for  a  single  night.  He  asked  me  why  I 
did  not  turn  my  attention  to  the  Italian  opera.  I 
said  I  would,  willingly,  but  I  doubted  that  an  oppor- 
tunity would  present  itself  whilst  I  continued  to  sing 
in  England  regularly.  He  advised  me  to  go  back  to 
Ital}'  for  twelve  months,  and  make  a  reputation  there 
in  some  of  the  good  theatres,  and  then  there  would 
be  no  difficulty  in  finding  a  place  for  me  at  the  Italian 
opera  in  England.  I  liked  his  proposal,  and  talked 
it  over  with  my  wife,  who  was  also  pleased,  and 
advised  me  to  give  the  plan  a  fair  trial.  I  saw  Costa 
again  and  told  him  I  had  decided  upon  taking  his 
advice,  whereupon  he  gave  me  a  letter  of  introduc- 
tion to  Rossini,  begging  him  to  recommend  me  to 
his  friends  in  Italy,  and  one  to  Mario,  asking  him  to 
introduce  me  to  any  agent  in  Paris  who  was  likely 
to  be  able  to  further  my  interest.  Mario  had  removed 
to  a  house  somewhere  in  a  new  street  near  the  "Arc 
de  TEtoile,"  and  I  tried  in  vain  to  find  him.  I  called 
on  Rossini,  sent  in  my  card  with  Costa's  letter,  and 
was  shown  into  a  small  room  where  Rossini  was  seated, 
with  his  face  lathered,  a  towel  round  his  neck,  wait- 


198        REMINISCENCES   Of    CHARLES    ,  I.:"/ //•'>' 

ing  for  llu:  l);i.rl)i-r  to  ;tpplv  liis  r;i/or.  Of  course  I 
culled  to  mind  the  scene  in  the  "Barbiere"  on  the 
spot.  After  ;i  cordial  salutation  he  begged  me  to 
step  into  the  next  room  for  a  few  minutes.  The  shav- 
ing operation  over,  J  was  recalled,  when  I  had  a  long 
conversation  with  him  about  music  and  tin-  opera  in 
London,  and  friends  of  his  whom  I  knew.  I  had 
armed  myself  with  the  Cavatina  from  "  Maometto 
Secondo,"  "  Alle  voci  della  gloria,"  in  case  lie  wished 
to  hear  me.  I  felt  very  disappointed  as  he  did  not 
ask  me  to  sing,  yet  he  offered  to  give  me  letters  to 
influential  musical  friends  in  Italy;  I  did  not  feel 
inclined  to  accept  recommendations  from  a  man  who 
did  not  know  what  I  was  capable  of  except  from 
hearsay. 

When  he  dismissed  me,  he  requested  me  to  call 
again  before  I  left  Paris,  which  I  promised  to  do, 
hoping  that  he  would  then  express  a  wish  to  hear 
what  he  was  recommending.  In  the  meantime  I  re- 
ceived a  letter  from  a  friend  of  mine  who  had  acted 
as  treasurer  to  the  Pyne  and  Harrison  Company  to 
the  effect  that  Mr.  Gye  had  asked  him  if  he  thought 
I  would  like  to  sing  at  the  Italian  Opera,  as  he  had 
a  very  good  chance  open  if  I  cared  to  avail  myself  of 
it.  He  wished  to  bring  out  a  new  prima  donna — an 
Englishwoman  who  had  made  a  certain  reputation  in 
Italy  under  the  name  of  Fanny  Gordosa  —  early  in 
the  season.  She  was  to  make  her  debut  in  "  II  Tro- 
vatore " ;  and  Graziani,  who  was  to  have  sustained 
the  part  of  "  di  Luna  "  as  usual,  could  not  be  in  Lon- 


REMINISCENCES  OF  CHARLES  SAXTLEY        199 

don  in  time.  He  could  not  offer  me  an  engagement, 
nor  any  pay,  except  the  opportunity  of  my  being 
heard  on  the  Italian  stage,  which  probably  would  be 
to  my  interest  in  the  future.  The  other  artists  were 
Xantier-Didier,  Tamberlik.  and  Tagliafico.  The  offer 
tempted  me ;  I  hoped  if  I  made  a  success  I  might 
attain  the  object  of  my  ambition,  so  I  consented  to 
play  the  part.  I  called  again  on  Rossini,  and 
again  disappointed  that  he  did  not  ask  me  to  sing. 
The  only  interest  he  displayed  was  in  a  buffo  named 
Frizzi,  who  was  engaged  for  Cerent  Garden.  He 
confessed  he  had  never  heard  him,  nor,  I  believe. 
seen  him ;  but  he  had  been  strongly  recommended, 
and  Rossini  was  particularly  anxious  I  should  beg 
Costa  to  show  him  all  the  attention  he  could.  I  took 
leave  of  the  old  Maestro  without  troubling  him  for 
any  letters. 

My  first  visit  after  I  returned  to  London  was  to 
Mr.  Gye.  I  agreed  to  the  terms  proposed,  and  he 
then  accompanied  me  to  the  stage  to  inform  Costa 
of  my  appearance  in  "  II  Trovatore."  When  he  left, 
Costa  asked  me  if  I  had  made  an  engagement.  I  said 
••  X  .  -A  mistake,"  said  he;  ki  never  do  business 
with  the  theatre  without  having  all  arrangements 
reduced  to  writing."  "But,"  said  I,  " there  is  no 
engagement ; "  and  I  related  the  terms  on  which  I 
was  going  to  sing.  He  merely  said,  "  Well,  I  will 
take  care  of  you ;  do  your  best,  and  probably  some- 
thing good  will  come  of  it."  I  spoke  to  Harris,  and 
he  also  seemed  sanguine  about  my  being  engaged. 


200        REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SA.VTLEY 

At  the  first  rehearsal  I  attended,  Tamberlik  arrived 
about  twenty  minutes  late.  Costa  pulled  out  his 
watch  and  showed  it  to  him ;  he  made  some  excuse, 
having  had  a  heavy  performance  in  "  William  Tell " 
the  night  before.  "  I  excuse  you  this  time,"  said 
Costa  ;  "  but  pray  do  not  let  it  occur  again." 

At  the  general  rehearsal  I  was  so  nervous  I  sang 
"  II  balen  "  nearly  half  a  note  sharp  throughout.  I 
was  perfectly  aware  of  it  myself,  but  could  not  come 
down ;  everybody  thought  I  was  going  to  make  a 
dreadful  failure.  When  I  was  dressed  for  the  per- 
formance, Costa  came  to  my  room,  and,  after  examin- 
ing my  make-up  attentively,  requested  me  to  make 
sundry  alterations  about  my  dress  and  hair.  When 
he  was  satisfied  that  my  appearance  was  all  correct, 
he  said,  "  Now  go  and  do  your  work,  and  do  not  let 
me  hear  any  more  talk  about  Italian  jealousy."  I 
said  I  had  never  mentioned  such  a  thing.  He  replied, 
"It  has  been  repeated  to  me  you  have.  There  are 
many  singers  here  not  Italians  —  Signer  Tagliafico, 
for  instance ;  they  have  never  suffered  from  jealousy." 
I  still  protested  my  innocence.  "Well,  well,"  he 
said,  "  I  may  be  misinformed ;  but  if  there  should 
be  any  jealous  feeling  towards  you,  remember  that 
nobody  was  ever  jealous  of  an  ass." 

My  reception  when  I  appeared  on  the  stage  was 
such  that  I  was  quite  overcome.  For  five  minutes  I 
stood  bowing  whilst  the  audience  and  orchestra  rose 
to  their  feet  and  cheered  me ;  the  ladies  waved  their 
handkerchiefs  as  they  stood  up  in  the  boxes  and 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY        201 

stalls.  It  was  said  that  such  a  scene  had  not  been 
witnessed  at  the  Italian  Opera  since  Grisi  made  her 
final  bow  to  the  public. 

When  the  applause  finished  and  I  had  to  begin,  the 
first  few  notes  stuck  in  my  throat ;  but  as  I  fell  into 
my  part,  I  conquered  my  agitation,  and  maintained 
my  ground  throughout  the  opera.  I  was  congratu- . 
lated  by  everybody  concerned  upon  my  success.  It 
is  needless  to  say  I  was  very  pleased ;  only  one  little 
whisper  might  have  marred  my  happiness,  had  not 
my  conscience  been  perfectly  clear  on  the  subject, 
It  was  intimated  to  me  that  the  authorities  declared 
I  had  packed  the  house  in  order  to  secure  the  ovation 
I  received.  At  that  time  I  had  no  money  to  spare 
for  such  a  purpose ;  I  did  not  purchase  a  single  ticket, 
nor  did  I  make  use  of  all  the  manager  sent  me.  I 
gave  a  box  to  my  friend  who  arranged  the  business 
between  Mr.  Gye  and  me,  with  strict  injunctions  not 
to  applaud  until  the  house  gave  unmistakable  signs 
of  approval.  I  sent  Madame  Sainton  two  stalls;  and 
whatever  else  I  received,  I  deposited  in  the  \vaste- 
paper  basket.  Throughout  my  career,  I  have  never 
given  a  single  admission  to  anyone  to  applaud  me 
either  in  theatre  or  concert-room ;  I  have  always 
depended  on  the  verdict  of  the  public.  I  sang  at 
two  subsequent  performances  in  response  to  the 
usual  intimation  from  the  theatre ;  I  had  a  fourth 
call,  but  I  was  engaged  to  sing  in  Liverpool  the  same 
night,  so  I  was,  very  unwillingly,  obliged  to  excuse 
myself.  I  was  the  more  annoyed,  as  Rosa  Czillag 


202         REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 


to  have  sung  in  place  of  Gordosa,  who  had 
not  been  a  success.  I  called  on  Mr.  Gye,  by  appoint- 
ment, to  see  if  I  could  arrange  anything  definite  for 
the  season  ;  he  was  detained,  however,  by  business  of 
greater  importance,  and  I  left  the  theatre  without 
seeing  him.  I  went  directly  over  to  Her  Majesty's 
,  Theatre  to  see  Mapleson,  and  ask  for  a  box  to  witness 
the  first  appearance  of  Madame  Guerrabella  (Gene- 
vieve  Ward)  in  "  I  Puritani."  I  was  denied  admis- 
sion to  his  room  by  the  Cerberus  at  the  stage-door. 
I  sent  in  my  card,  and  the  messenger  returned  in  a 
few  minutes,  and  informed  me  Mr.  Mapleson  wished 
to  speak  to  me  immediately  on  important  business. 
He  received  me  in  his  usual  jovial  manner  —  asked 
me  some  questions  about  my  engagement  at  Covent 
Garden;  I  told  him  I  was  not  under  any  engage- 
ment. "Then  you  must  come  to  me,"  said  he.  I 
demurred,  as  my  secret  wish  was  to  be  at  Covent 
Garden.  However,  Mapleson's  cajolery,  and  my 
desire  to  be  engaged  at  the  Italian  Opera,  settled  the 
matter,  and  I  left  the  theatre  with  my  engagement 
for  that  and  the  following  season  in  my  pocket.  The 
only  stipulations  I  made  were  I  was  not  to  be  called 
on  to  play  Don  Giovanni  nor  Figaro  in  the  "Bar- 
biere,"  and  the  right  to  sing  at  private  concerts  on 
my  own  account.  I  made  my  first  appearance  on  a 
Saturday  night  after  I  had  been  singing  at  the 
Crystal  Palace.  I  was  very  nervous,  and  sang  ull 
balen  "  atrociously.  I  wished  I  could  have  dropped 
through  the  stage,  and  hidden  myself  for  very  shame  ; 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY        203 

but  the  public  was  merciful,  and  insisted  on  my 
repeating  the  song.  I  pulled  myself  together,  and 
the  second  time  redeemed  my  honour.  I  felt  very 
disappointed  with  myself,  and  feared  I  hud  cancelled 
the  success  I  made  at  Covent  Garden.  The  "Tro- 
vatore"  became  my  "bete  noire";  each  day  it  was 
announced  for  performance  in  the  evening  was,  to 
me,  a  day  of  utter  misery  until  I  had  got  through 
the  second  act.  Strange  to  say,  it  was  a  favourite 
opera  of  mine.  I  liked  the  part  of  udi  Luna";  when 
I  played  it  in  English  it  never  cost  me  a  thought.  I 
presume  the  two  slips  I  made  at  the  rehearsal  at 
Covent  Garden,  and  the  first  performance  at  Her 
Majesty's,  left  an  impression  on  my  nervous  system 
which  I  never  succeeded  in  erasing.  During  the 
season,  I  played  De  Xevers  in  '•  Gli  Ugonotti,"  Alma- 
viva  in  "Le  Xozze  di  Figaro,''  etc.  Almaviva  I 
found  the  most  difficult  part  I  ever  attempted,  and  I 
never  was  at  all  satisfied  with  my  performance  of  it. 

In  consequence  of  the  influx  of  strangers  to  visit 
the  Exhibition,  our  season  was  protracted  until  the 
'month  of  September;  for  the  same  reason  the  English 
Opera  at  Covent  Garden  opened  early  in  the  same 
month,  and  I  was  in  a  dilemma,  for  I  was  engaged 
at  both  1  louses.  I  succeeded  in  arranging  matters 
amicably  by  singing  at  each  alternately  the  few  nights 
they  were  open  together.  On  Monday  I  played  in 
"The  Lily  of  Killarney,"  English,  at  Covent  Garden; 
on  Tuesday  in  "11  Trovatore,"  Italian,  at  Her 
Majesty's;  on  Wednesday  in  "  Dinorah,''  English,  at 


204         REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

Covent  Garden.  I  do  not  know  whether  such  a 
combination  ever  occurred  before  —  it  certainly  has 
not  since  —  I  played  at  both  Italian  operas  and  the 
English  opera  in  one  season. 

Until  the  production  of  Wallace's  "  Love's  Tri- 
umph," about  the  middle  of  November,  the  operas  of 
the  repertoire  were  successfully  played.  The  new 
opera  was  not  a  success ;  the  music  and  libretto  were 
both  charming,  but  the  stage  of  Covent  Garden  was 
too  large  a  frame  for  the  picture,  and  there  was  a 
lack  of  elegance  about  the  whole  of  the  mise  en 
scene  which  destroyed  the  brilliancy  of  the  work.  I 
believe  it  would  have  been  a  great  success  had  it 
been  played  with  spirit  in  a  theatre  such  as  the 
Princess's,  where  the  dialogue  could  have  been 
spoken  more  rapidly  than  in  the  large  theatre. 

I  declined  to  sing  the  baritone  part ;  it  was  of  no 
importance  whatever  dramatically  or  musically ;  the 
only  number  it  contained  being  a  ballad  introduced 
to  make  weight,  a  propos  of  nothing  particular.  I 
went  into  the  stalls  one  day  to  hear  a  little  of  the 
rehearsal,  and  found  Charles  Lucas  there.  I  had 
barely  sat  down  by  him  than  he  said,  "  Young  man, 
you  have  made  a  mistake  in  refusing  the  part ;  the 
opera  will  be  the  greatest  success  we  have  had  since 
'  The  Bohemian  Girl.'  "  I  replied  it  would  not  bo  a 
success  at  all.  My  reply  made  him  angry,  and  he 
asked  sharply  if  I  thought  his  long  experience  was 
worth  nothing.  "I  repeat,"  said  he,  "it  will  be  an 
enormous  success,  and  you  will  be  sorry  you  did  not 


REMINISCENCES    OF   CHARLES   SANTLEY        205 

take  part  in  it."  It  was  not  a  success,  but  I  was 
sorry  I  had  refused  the  part,  as  Wallace  was  a  good 
friend  of  mine,  although  I  could  not  have  done  any- 
thing with  such  a  part  to  render  him  any  service. 

The  last  opera  of  the  season,  and  the  last  English 
opera  I  sang  at  Covent  Garden,  was  Balfe's  "Ar- 
mourer of  Nantes."  I  had  had  a  disagreement  with 
the  management,  and  in  consequence  my  part  in  the 
last  act,  which  was  of  importance  to  the  development 
of  the  plot,  was  reduced  to  crossing  the  stage  in  a 
procession.  I  did  not  see  any  fun  in  waiting  in  my 
costume  a  whole  act  for  this,  so  I  declined  to  do  it ; 
and  after  some  disputing  it  was  arranged  I  should  be 
represented  by  a  "  double,"  the  consequence  being 
that  the  denouement  remained  a  profound  mystery. 

During  the  run  of  the  "  Armourer,"  the  theatre 
was  opened  free  on  the  occasion  of  the  marriage  of 
the  Prince  of  Wales.  The  house  was  densely 
crowded,  but  a  more  stupid  audience  I  never  sang 
to ;  there  was  literally  no  applause  throughout  the 
performance.  A  short  Mask  was  played  the  same 
night,  d  propos  of  the  royal  nuptials.  I  do  not 
recollect  the  title  nor  the  name  of  the  composer; 
the  libretto  was  by  John  Oxenford. 

In  the  first  act  of  the  "  Armourer  "  I  had  a  barca- 
role to  sing  in  the  wing  before  I  made  my  appear- 
ance on  the  stage  ;  it  was  written  to  suit  me  exactly. 
Nobody  knew  better  than  Balfe  how  to  put  music 
into  a  singer's  throat.  In  returning  to  the  refrain 
after  the  second  part  of  the  melody,  I  made  a  very 


206        REMINISCENCES    OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

long  messa  di  voce  on  the  fifth  of  the  key ;  this  was 
made  the  subject  of  a  bet  among  the  gentlemen  of 
the  orchestra  which  I  was  called  upon  to  decide. 
Some  of  them  concluded  that  I  began  the  messa  di 
voce  with  my  face  towards  the  back  of  the  stage, 
and  then  turned  round  gradually  a  complete  circle, 
so  making  the  crescendo  and  diminuendo.  I  laughed 
heartily  at  the  idea,  as  I  adopted  no  such  device, 
which,  indeed,  would  have  had  no  effect  in  produc- 
ing the  result  desired. 

With  the  "  Armourer  of  Nantes  "  I  bade  farewell 
to  the  English  opera  for  some  years.  The  first  two 
seasons  I  was  with  Pyne  and  Harrison,  my  engage- 
ment did  not  contain  any  stipulation  regarding  the 
number  of  nights  I  was  bound  to  sing,  so  if  required, 
and  I  generally  was  required,  I  had  to  sing  every 
night.  At  Her  Majesty's  Theatre,  1860-61,  we  only 
played  four  times  a  week,  the  other  two  nights  were 
devoted  to  Italian  opera  the  first  half  of  the  season; 
but  on  those  nights  I  generally  had  a  concert  in 
London  or  the  provinces,  so  I  might  as  well,  or 
better,  have  been  playing  in  an  opera.  The  last 
season  at  Covent  Garden  I  would  not  sign  for  more 
than  four  nights  a  week ;  I  did  not  accept  engage- 
ments out  of  the  theatre,  so  my  work  was  lighter. 
Before  that  it  had  been  tolerably  severe.  I  cannot 
recapitulate  all  the  operas  I  took  part  in,  but  I  will 
give  a  sketch  of  my  work  during  my  first  four 
seasons  on  the  operatic  stage,  as  nearly  as  I  can 
remember. 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY        207 

In  1859-60  I  sang  in  "  Dinorah  "  (first  time  on  the 
English  stage),  "Victorine"  and  "Lurline"  —new 
operas  —  "  The  Trovatore,"  "  The  Rose  of  Castille," 
"  Satanella,"  "  The  Sonnambula  "  —  new  to  me  ;  in 
1860-61,  "Robin  Hood,"  "The  Amber  Witch"  — 
new  —  "Queen  Topaz"  —  first  time  in  England  — 
"  The  Bohemian  Girl "  —  new  to  me  —  "  The  Trova- 
tore," etc.;  in  1861-62,  "Ruy  Bias,"  "The  Puritan's 
Daughter,"  and  "  Lily  of  Killarney  " — new  —  and 
operas  of  the  repertoire  which  I  had  already  taken 
part  in ;  in  1862-63,  "  The  Armourer  of  Nantes " 
—  new  —  and  operas  of  the  repertoire.  The 
average  season  must  have  been  at  least  of  five 
months'  duration ;  the  average  number  of  times  I 
sang  in  each  about  110.  I  had  seldom  more  than  a 
week's  rest  from  rehearsal.  Contrast  this  with  the 
work  young  singers  are  called  on  to  do  in  the  latest 
edition  of  English  opera ;  theirs  is  a  path  of  roses 
compared  with  that  we  of  the  old  rdgiine  trod,  and 
our  emoluments  were  on  a  much  more  economic 
scale  than  are  paid  now ;  though  I  will  venture  to 
remark,  as  far  as  my  general  observation  goes,  that 
there  are  some  of  the  young  aspirants  of  the  present 
day  who  might  have  taken  a  lesson  from  many  of 
my  old  comrades.  I  never  had  but  once  a  quarrel 
with  one  of  our  company,  and  that  was  about  some 
stage  business,  which  was  soon  made  up.  With  the 
management  we  might  have  been  a  family  of  porcu- 
pines ;  on  the  slightest  provocation  quills  shot  up 
and  caused  wounds  not  readily  healed.  I  wished  for 


208         REMINISCENCES    OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

nothing  more  than  to  do  my  work  in  peace  to  the 
best  of  my  ability.  Earnest  at  all  times,  I  never 
thought  of  the  amount  imposed  on  me ;  I  saw 
the  willing  horse  invariably  carried  the  heaviest 
pack,  and  had  the  least  consideration  shown  him, 
but  my  enthusiasm  was  proof  against  the  abuse 
of  good-will.  The  only  part  I  refused  was  that  in 
"Love's  Triumph,"  and  had  it  not  been  that  I  was 
really  much  in  need  of  rest,  I  do  not  think  I  should 
have  refused  it.  During  these  four  seasons  I  can 
only  call  to  mind  three  occasions  on  which  I  disap- 
pointed the  public. 

We  had  one  or  two  eccentric  characters  among  the 
members  of  the  English  Opera  Company ;  George 
Honey  was  one.  I  never  could  make  out  why  he 
had  anything  to  do  with  the  opera,  or  why  anyone 
knowing  anything  about  the  requirements  of  a 
singer,  even  a  buffo,  could  have  induced  him  to 
leave  the  sphere  he  was  adapted  to.  He  was  a 
clever,  eccentric  comedian,  and  in  a  part  like  Don 
Florio  in  "  The  Rose  of  Castille,"  the  first  part  he 
played  under  the  Pyne  and  Harrison  management, 
with  "  Why  did  you  not  say  so  at  first  ? "  a  comic 
twitch  of  the  head,  and  an  extravagant  make-up,  he 
made  a  decided  hit.  He  had  a  hollow,  unmusical 
voice,  and  knew  very  little  about  the  art  of  singing; 
yet  he  firmly  believed  his  forte  lay  in  serious  song. 
His  favourite  attempt  was  a  "  A  father's  love  "  from 
"  Lurline."  I  never  heard  it,  but  I  have  been  told 
on  good  authority  it  was  the  most  comic  thing  he 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  S ANT  LEY        209 

ever  did.  I  did  hear  him  attempt  the  long  buffo 
scene  in  Balfe's  "Puritan's  Daughter,*'  and  that  was 
one  of  the  most  dismal  things  I  ever  heard ;  and  so 
must  it  have  proved  to  the  audience,  as  it  was  en- 
tirely omitted  after  the  first  or  second  performance. 

On  one  occasion,  when  we  were  playing  "The 
Rose  of  Castille  "  for  Louisa  Pyne's  benefit,  Honey, 
at  the  rehearsal,  took  me  aside,  and  begged  of  me  to 
give  him  plenty  of  time  to  get  out  the  low  C  in  the 
duet,  as  it  was  his  great  effect,  and  on  former  occa- 
sions I  had  done  him  out  of  his  round  of  applause. 
Of  course,  I  promised,  and  kept  my  promise ;  but 
the  low  C  stuck  on  passage,  and  would  not  come  out. 
I  walked  up  the  stage,  and  waited  in  expectation ; 
when  I  turned  round  I  saw  1113*  friend  red  as  a  peony, 
almost  bursting,  but  not  a  sound  could  he  produce. 
The  audience  took  it  as  a  good  joke,  and  roared  with 
laughter,  to  Honey's  intense  disgust.  His  good  sense 
or  good  fortune  led  him  back  to  his  own  sphere,  in 
which  he  did  excellent  service  ;  nobody  who  saw  him 
as  Eccles  in  "  Caste  "  will  ever  forget  what  an  admir- 
able performance  it  was. 

St.  Albyn  (a  second  tenor)  was  another  extraordi- 
nary character.  He  never  had  any  voice  to  speak  of, 
either  in  power  or  compass ;  he  was  for  ever  discov- 
ering a  "  production  "  by  which  he  could  sing  (?)  the 
high  C  from  the  chest.  Like  the  boa  constrictor,  in 
order  to  seize  his  prey,  St.  Albyn,  to  seize  upon  the 
high  C,  was  obliged  to  have  some  unyielding  object 
which  he  could  grasp  firmly.  On  the  road  home 


210        REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

after  the  opera  he  used  to  exhibit  for  any  friends 
who  accompanied  him,  seizing  the  lamp-post,  and 
uttering  the  most  distressing  screams.  He  gave  me 
a  specimen  in  my  dressing-room  one  evening,  and 
was  quite  satisfied  he  was  on  the  highroad  to  wealth 
and  undying  fame.  A  few  nights  after  he  came  to 
me  looking  very  dismal,  and  informed  me  he  was 
going  to  turn  baritone.  "Baritone!"  said  I;  "what, 
after  the  discovery  you  have  made  ?  "  "  Ah,"  said 
he,  with  a  sigh,  "  there's  no  help  for  it."  "  How's 
that  ?  "  I  inquired.  "  Well,  the  fact  is,"  he  replied, 
"  I'm  losing  my  voice." 

A  libretto  being  in  request,  Palgrave  Simpson 
called  to  see  the  manager  witli  a  production  in  his 
pocket.  Said  he :  "  My  dear  Harrison,  I  have  the 
very  thing;  a  splendid  part  for  you  —  heroic,  pas- 
sionate —  in  fact,  a  part  that  will  fit  you  like  a 
glove !  "  The  manager's  eyes  glistened,  for  he  still 
felt  being  left  out  in  the  pold  in  "  The  Puritan's 
Daughter."  "  And,"  added  Simpson,  "  the  best  of 
it  is  you  are  dumb  throughout  the  first  two  acts  — 
not  a  line  to  speak  nor  a  note  to  sing  !  " 

"  Thank  you,  sir ;  I  wish  you  a  very  good-morn- 
ing ; "  and  Simpson,  much  to  his  surprise,  was  bowed 
out  of  the  managerial  presence  forthwith. 


CHAPTER   XIV 

My  Xew  Comrades:  Tietjens,  Alboni,  Trebelli,  and  Giuglini  — 
Trebelli's  Father  —  Dressing-rooms  at  the  English  and  Italian 
Opera  —  An  Operatic  Perquisite  —  The  Advantages  of  Italiani- 
zation  —  A  Visit  to  Paris  —  Madame  Carvalho  and  Monjauze  — 
I  persuade  Mapleson  to  let  me  play  Valentine  —  Gounod's  Con- 
gratulations —  Divergent  Opinions  as  to  the  Part  —  Origin  of 
"  Dio  Possente"  — The  Season  of  1863  —  Schira's  "  Xiccolo  de' 
Lapi" — A  Trying  Part  —  Mile.  ArtGt  in  "La  Traviata"  —  A 
Dilatory  "  Faust "  —  Revival  of  "  Oberon  "  —  Alboni's  Magnitl- 
cent  Singing  and  Excessive  Nervousness  —  My  Holiday  and 
Escape  on  the  Lake  of  Lucerne  —  Debufrat  Worcester  Festival 
—  Schachner'fl  Xew  Oratorio  :  his  Criticism  on  Benedict's  "  Co3ur 
de  Lion"  — Mapleson's  Operatic  Tour  —  "Lucia"  at  Dublin  — 
My  Dress  as  Enrico  —  Mistaken  for  Oliver  Cromwell  —  The 
Dublin  Gods  and  "Faust"  —  Mephisto's  Misadventures  —  Re- 
turn to  London  — Wanted,  a  Faust. 

SPITE  of  the  hard  work  and  heart-burnings  I  ex- 
perienced, it  was  with  a  feeling  of  deep  regret  I 
changed  my  stage.  I  had  enjoyed  my  little  tri- 
umphs ;  I  had  won  the  esteem  and  friendship  of  my 
companions,  and  I  now  found  myself  among  compar- 
ative strangers.  Teresa  Tietjens,  Alboni,  and  Giu- 
glini I  had  met  at  some  of  the  festivals,  and  in 
private  concerts,  but  I  was  not  on  intimate  terms 
with  them.  Mile.  Trebelli  I  met  whilst  I  was  in 
Paris  in  1862  at  a  party  given  by  Madame  Orfila,  to 
whom  I  was  presented  by  some  friends  of  Patey's. 

211 


212         REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  S ANT  LEY 

At  the  request  of  the  hostess  I  sang  a  solo  piece, 
after  which  Mile.  Trebelli,  to  whom  I  was  intro- 
duced, asked  me  if  I  would  sing  the  duet  from  "  II 
Barbiere  "  with  her.  I  replied  that  it  would  give  me 
great  pleasure.  As  we  were  moving  towards  the 
piano,  Trebellrs  father  stepped  up  and  inquired, 
"  Qu'est  ce  que  tu  vas  chanter  ? "  u  Le  duo  du 
Barbier."  "  Avec  qui?"  "Avec  ce  monsieur  an- 
glais." "  Comment !  avec  un  anglais  !  "  (horrified.) 
"Mon  Dieu!"  He  must  have  found  reason  to 
change  his  opinion  of  English  singers,  for  he  com- 
plimented me  highly,  and  we  became  subsequently 
great  friends. 

In  a  short  time  I  found  myself  Us  much  at  home  in 
my  new  sphere  as  I  had  been  in  the  old  one.  I  found 
many  comforts  and  attentions  I  had  never  before  ex- 
perienced. The  dressing-room  of  the  English  oper- 
atic artist  (I  give  my  own  experience)  was  uncarpeted, 
the  toilette-table  without  a  cover,  the  looking-glass, 
of  the  commonest  description,  was  just  large  enough 
to  show  the  head,  and  lighted  by  a  jet  of  gas,  pro- 
tected by  a  thick  wire  shade,  and  a  common  oil-lamp. 
When  I  sang  in  "  II  Trovatore,"  on  my  first  appear- 
ance at  the  Italian  opera,  I  dressed  in  the  same  room 
I  occupied  during  the  English  seasons,  but  what  was 
my  surprise  at  the  metamorphosis  I  found!  Instead 
of  a  bare  cell,  it  was  converted  into  a  comfortable 
room  with  a  carpet,  a  clean  table-cover,  a  cheval  glass 
in  addition  to  my  old  friend,  and  the  stinking  oil- 
lamp  superseded  by  a  couple  of  wax  candles.  These 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY        213 

latter  were  the  perquisite  of  the  artist  occupying  the 
room,  who  used  in  most  cases  to  carry  them  off  after 
the  performance,  or  as  much  of  them  as  was  left,  and 
thus  economize  the  cost  of  light  in  private  life.  It 
was  a  custom  with  the  more  economical  to  extinguish 
the  candles,  and  pack  them  away  as  soon  as  the 
operation  of  dressing  was  over;  or,  if  the  make-up 
was  not  elaborate,  they  were  not  lighted  at  all,  and  so 
available  as  a  marketable  commodity.  One,  who  was 
a  member  of  the  R.  I.  O.  Company  for  many  years,  it- 
was  well  known,  used  to  travel  with  his  portmanteau 
half  full  with  these  spoils  of  the  dressing-room.  I 
do  not  suppose  Mario,  Tamberlik,  Faure,  etc.,  trav- 
elled about  with  a  stock  of  candle-ends ;  I  know  I 
did  not.  I  found,  also,  a  great  improvement  in  the 
behaviour  of  the  dressers ;  the  hail-fellow-well-met, 
patronizing  air  they  assumed  when  I  was  only  an  Eng- 
lishman gave  place  to  one  of  deference  I  was  not 
prepared  for  when  I  became  an  Italian.  Xor  wa.s 
this  confined  to  dressers ;  outside  the  theatre  I  re- 
marked a  similar  increase  of  politeness  and  attention 
on  the  part  of  individuals  who,  in  other  phases  of 
life,  were  in  the  habit  of  thanking  God  they  were 
true  John  Bulls.  This  might  be  ascribed  to  a  flight 
of  imagination  on  my  part  had  I  not  noticed  an 
equivalent  decrease  of  attention  and  interest  when  I 
sacrificed  health,  strength,  and  money  in  endeavour- 
ing to  secure  a  home  for  opera  in  the  national  tongue 
some  twenty  years  ago. 

In  the  course  of  my  first  Italian  opera  season  I  had 


214         REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

two  offers  of  engagements,  either  of  which  would 
probably  have  changed  the  whole  course  of  my  career. 
Madame  Carvalho,  whom  I  met  frequently  at  Chor- 
ley's  and  in  private  parties,  asked  me,  after  we  had 
been  singing  a  duet  one  evening,  to  enter  into  nego- 
tiations with  her  husband  with  regard  to  an  engage- 
ment for  the  Theatre  Lyrique  in  Paris,  where  they 
were  about  to  put  "  Don  Juan  "  on  the  stage  with  all 
the  care  and  attention  for  which  that  house  was  cele- 
brated. I  declined,  on  the  ground  of  my  never  hav- 
ing sung  in  French,  and  my  imperfect  conversational 
knowledge  of  the  language.  She  replied  that  need 
not  present  any  difficulty ;  if  I  would  entertain  her 
proposal,  the  engagement  would  be  made  that  I 
should  not  be  required  to  sing  for  three  months, 
during  which  time  there  would  be  ample  time  to  ex- 
ercise myself  in  conversation,  and  pass  one  or  two 
parts  in  French  with  a  good  master,  so  as  to  acquire 
a  proper  accent. 

Through  our  chorus-master  Chiaromonte,  I  had  an 
offer  from  Calzado  for  the  Italian  opera  in  Paris ;  we 
did  not,  however,  agree  on  the  subject  of  terms. 
Had  I  had  only  myself  to  think  of,  any  difficulty 
which  stood  in  the  way  of  my  accepting  either  of 
these  engagements  might  have  been  overcome ;  but  I 
had  already  a  small  family,  which  I  could  not  afford 
to  take  about  with  me,  and  an  establishment  of  my 
own  which  I  did  not  feel  inclined  to  break  up,  so  I 
took  no  further  steps  about  either. 

At  the  termination  of  the  English  season  1862-63, 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY        215 

I  again  went  to  Paris,  when  I  paid  my  first  visit 
to  the  "  Theatre  Francois " ;  and  I  saw  Gounod's 
"Faust"  for  the  first  time.  I  was  prejudiced  against 
both.  I  had  heard  so  much  about  the  superiority  of 
French  actors,  and  Chorley  had  so  lauded  "  Faust " 
to  the  disparagement  of  modern  Italian  opera,  that  I 
determined  nothing  should  make  me  like  them.  The 
play  at  the  "Frai^ais"  was  "  Le  fils  de  Giboyer," 
with  a  cast  I  have  never  seen  equalled  —  Got, 
Delaunay,  Bressant,  Prevost,  Favart,  Plessis,  etc. 
The  curtain  had  not  long  risen  before  prejudice  had 
given  place  to  admiration  ;  for  the  first  time  I  saw 
what  could  be  achieved  by  a  combination  of  fine 
actors  working  together  under  a  competent  head 
with  one  common  interest  —  the  interest  of  the  drama 
they  were  representing.  It  was  a  perfect  whole ; 
there  were  strong  situations  which  stood  out,  as  the 
scene  in  which  Giboyer  discovers  himself  to  his  son ; 
and  that  of  the  reception  where  the  daughter  of  the 
bourgeois,  outraged  by  the  supercilious  way  in  which 
her  lover  (her  father's  secretary)  is  treated  by  the 
guests,  offers  him  a  cup  of  tea  —  a  very  simple  inci- 
dent in  itself,  but  a  most  striking  one  as  played  by 
Favart  and  Delaunay ;  these  were  only  parts  of  the 
picture,  not  merely  worked  up  for  the  individual 
display  of  a  particular  actor.  But  my  prejudice 
received  the  severest  rebuke  from  "Faust";  I  was 
completely  carried  away  by  the  music,  and  the  way 
the  opera  was  put  on  the  sta^c.  Madame  Carvalho 
was  the  poetic  embodiment  of  Marguerite  :  Monjauze, 


216         REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

a  singer  of  whom  very  few  of  my  readers  will  remem- 
ber even  the  name,  I  have  never  seen  equalled  as 
Faust;  and  Balanque",  with  the  exception  of  Junca, 
who  played  the  part  with  us  at  Her  Majesty's 
Theatre  in  1864,  was  the  best  Mephisto  I  have  seen. 
The  Valentine,  whose  name  I  do  not  remember,  was 
a  small  man  with  a  small  voice,  who  strutted  about 
like  a  bantam,  and  brought  to  my  mind  the  fable  of 
the  frog  and  the  ox.  Mapleson  had  secured  "  Faust" 
for  the  season  of  1863.  When  he  told  me  and  men- 
tioned the  intended  distribution  of  the  parts,  he  said 
nothing  about  Valentine,  so  I  inquired  to  whom  it 
was  to  be  confided.  He  said  :  "  Oh,  anybody  ;  there 
is  nothing  in  it."  "  Then,"  said  I,  ';  as  you  have  not 
already  disposed  of  it,  give  it  to  me."  "  Nonsense  !  " 
he  replied,  "I  have  something  better  than  that  for 
you ;  I  am  not  going  to  throw  you  away  in  such  an 
insignificant  part  as  that."  In  vain  I  attempted  to 
convince  him  he  was  wrong,  and  that  Valentine's 
death  was  the  finest  ensemble  in  the  opera.  It  was 
only  after  much  earnest  petitioning  that  he  consented 
to  my  playing  the  part.  He  only  remarked :  "  If 
you  are  determined  I  am  only  too  happy,  as  it  will 
strengthen  the  cast,  and  I  wish  you  joy  of  it."  His 
wish  was  fulfilled  ;  I  had  great  joy  of  it !  It  turned 
out  so  well  that  Gounod  came  to  my  dressing- 
room  immediately  after  the  death-scene  to  thank 
me  cordially  for  having  undertaken  the  part,  and 
created  a  new  feature  in  the  opera.  My  brother  bar- 
itones were  not  so  cordial  in  their  thanks.  Graziani 


REMINISCENCES    OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY        217 

remonstrated  with  me  for  having  played  it  at  all,  as 
in  consequence  it  was  afterwards  always  given  to  the 
principal  baritone,  and  he  could  find  nothing  in  it 
worth  doing.  Opinions  differ ;  it  is  a  short  part,  but 
very  sympathetic  to  the  audience,  and  it  does  not  con- 
tain one  ineffective  bar  of  music.  When  "  Faust " 
was  produced  in  English  early  in  1864,  I  suggested 
that  Gounod  might  write  a  song  for  me,  taking  the 
melody  which  occurs  in  the  prelude  to  the  first  act  as 
a  theme.  At  first  he  demurred,  as  he  considered  he 
had  not  been  well  treated  with  regard  to  the  business 
arrangements  connected  with  his  work ;  but  he  con- 
sented when  he  learned  it  was  for  me,  and  in  a  few 
days  he  sent  me  the  P.  F.  score  of  "Even  bravest 
heart  may  swell,"  known  in  its  Italian  form  as  "  Dio 
possente."1 

The  season  of  1863  opened  with  the  "  Trovatore," 
with  the  same  cast  as  in  1862.  On  the  7th  May, 
Schira's  opera  "  Niccolo  de'  Lapi "  was  produced  for 
the  first  time,  with  Tietjens  (Selvaggia),  Trebelli 
(Laodomia),  Giuglini  (Lambetto),  and  myself  (Nic- 
colo)—  a  very  trying  part.  It  was  singular  that  a 
professor  of  singing  should  have  had  so  little  percep- 
tion of  the  register  of  a  voice.  .My  first  number,  a 
romance,  "  Qui  sulla  bianca  lapide,"  was  so  high  that 
I  was  obliged  to  have  it  lowered  a  semitone,  and 
even  then  it  lay  at  the  utmost  stretch  of  my  voice,  all 
between  B  flat  and  G  above  the  bass  stave.  In  the 
second  act,  I  had  a  prayer  with  chorus  which  ended 
on  F  sharp  below  the  stave.  But  the  last  act  was 


218        REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

the  most  exigent.  Here  I  had  three  slow  sustained 
movements  to  sing  one  after  the  other  —  the  first 
lying  on  my  back  asleep  in  prison ;  the  last,  the  most 
fatiguing  of  all,  the  prophecy  —  before  Niccolcj  lays 
his  head  on  the  block,  ending  with  "  L'ltalia  libera 
sara !  "  It  was  only  played  three  nights.  To  satisfy 
some  of  the  principal  singers,  there  were  so  many 
interpolations  I  think  they  confused  the  drama  with- 
out increasing  the  musical  effect ;  besides,  it  was 
badly  put  on  the  stage.  We  had  an  Italian  stage- 
manager  then,  who  could  not  speak  two  words  of 
English.  When  anything  went  wrong,  he  used  to 
give  up  the  ghost,  and  march  to  and  fro  with  his 
hands  under  the  tails  of  a  long  overcoat  muttering  to 
himself.  My  companions  were  not  interested  in  the 
.work.  I  had  not  at  that  time  read  D'Azeglio's  novel 
from  which  the  drama  was  taken  ;  and  though  I  was 
highly  complimented  on  my  performance  by  those 
who  spoke  to  me  on  the  subject,  I  am  sure  I  was  not 
sufficiently  imposing  to  give  the  proper  dignity  and 
weight  to  such  a  character  as  that  of  Niccolo  de'  Lapi. 
I  played  "  Germont "  the  elder  in  the  "  Traviata  "  on 
the  first  appearance  of  Mile.  Art6t,  a  pupil  and  im- 
itator of  Madame  Viardot.  As  I  was  leaving  the 
theatre,  I  went  to  her  room  to  wish  her  "  Good-night," 
and  found  her  lying  on  the  floor  in  hysterics.  She 
also  played  "  Maria  "  in  "  La  figlia  del  reggimento," 
and  "  Adalgisa  "  to  Tietjen's  "  Norma."  She  was  a 
good  singer,  and  possessed  undoubted  histrionic 
talent ;  but  she  marred  her  performances  by  exagger- 


REMINISCENCES    OF  CHARLES   SANTLEY        219 

ation  —  she  would  have  done  more  had  she  done  less. 
"  Faust "  I  have  already  mentioned.  Tietjens  was 
highly  commended  for  her  "  Marguerite " ;  Giu- 
glini  sang  charmingly ;  Trebelli  made  a  great  success 
as  Siebcl,  although  I  think  it  is  a  mistake  to  give  the 
part  to  a  contralto  ;  Gassier  was  not  a  success  as  Me- 
phisto.  A  contretemps  occurred  at  the  first  represen- 
tation, all  the  more  serious  considering  the  financial 
importance  of  the  success  of  the  opera.  When  T  had 
finished  the  scene  of  the  cross  with  Mephisto,  I  walked 
deliberately  up  to  my  dressing-room.  I  saw  Giuglini 
in  his  room  preparing  to  put  on  his  tights  for  the 
change  of  dress ;  I  told  him  they  were  waiting  on  the 
stage  for  him  —  Marguerite  was  ready  to  start  for 
church,  but  there  was  no  Faust  to  meet  her.  A  long 
wait  ensued  —  ten  minutes  or  more — which  seemed 
an  hour  to  those  who  were  on  the  stage ;  fortunately 
there  was  a  patient  English  audience  in  front,  whose 
anger  found  vent  in  a  few  hisses  bestowed  on  Giuglini 
when  he  at  length  reappeared  on  the  scene.  "  Faust " 
was  an  enormous  success;  we  played  it  frequently 
throughout  the  remainder  of  the  season.  Early  in  July 
"  Oberon  "  was  reproduced,  with  Reeves  in  the  char- 
acter of  Sir  Huon,  Tietjens  as  Rezia,  Alboni  as  Fatima, 
Trebelli  as  Puck,  Bettini  as  Oberon,  Gassier  as  Babe- 
kan,  and  myself  as  Scherasmin  —  a  most  uninteresting 
part  dramatically,  and  insignificant  musically  —  his 
only  numbers  being  the  quartette  "Over  the  dark  blue 
waters,"  and  the  duet  "  On  the  banks  of  the  Garonne." 
My  chief  interest  in  the  opera  was  Alboni's  singing, 


220         REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

which  was  splendid  throughout.  The  song  in  the 
third  act  I  can  only  describe  as  gorgeous ;  and  yet  I 
never  saw  any  singer  more  nervous,  though  it  seemed 
impossible  with  such  a  physique  as  hers.  When  I 
led  her  on  to  the  stage  with  my  arm  round  her  waist, 
or  as  far  round  as  it  would  reach,  she  trembled  all 
over,  and  the  perspiration  dropped  from  her  forehead 
like  beads  during  the  entire  scene. 

I  took  my  holiday  at  Brunnen,  on  the  Lake  of 
Lucerne,  with  Patey.  We  had  an  adventure  which 
almost  ended  fatally.  We  were  across  the  lake  at 
Treib  fishing  one  evening,  when  I  noticed  that  a 
storm  was  brewing.  With  some  difficulty  I  induced 
the  boatmen  (fortunately  we  had  two)  to  start  on  our 
return  before  it  burst.  They  laughed  at  my  fears ; 
but  by  the  time  we  were  about  half-way  across,  the 
waves  were  so  high  they  could  scarcely  move  the 
boat.  For  a  few  moments  even  they  looked  dis- 
mayed; but  the  danger  we  \vere  in  excited  them  to 
strain  every  nerve,  and  they  managed  to  pull  near  in 
to  the  shore.  It  was,  however,  impossible  to  effect 
a  landing.  I  had  given  up  all  for  lost,  when  a  huge 
wave  lifted  the  boat  round  the  head  of  the  jetty  into 
smooth  water,  and  we  were  safe.  Shortly  after  we 
landed,  a  cry  was  raised  there  was  a  barge  sinking. 
She  was  coming  in  from  Fluelen  timber-laden,  the 
three  men  on  board  screaming  for  help.  There  was 
no  time  to  be  lost ;  but  nobody  seemed  inclined  to 
risk  going  out  to  their  assistance.  After  a  great 
deal  of  persuasion,  a  small  crew  at  last  volunteered ; 


A'£.VL\7SC£A'C£S   OF  CHARLES   SANTLEY         221 

they  rescued  the  men,  and  f listened  a  hawser  to  the 
prow  of  the  barge,  by  which  she  was  hauled  up  to 
the  shore  a  few  feet  under  water.  The  steamer 
could  not  land  her  passengers,  and  passed  along  on 
the  other  side  of  the  lake. 

On  my    return,   I  made    my  first  appearance   at  a 
••  Three    Choir    Festival "    at    Worcester.      Among 

O 

other  works,  I  sang  in  a  new  oratorio,  entitled 
"  Israel's  Return  from  Babylon,"  by  Herr  Schachner, 
which  did  not  impress  me  much.  Herr  Schachner 
called  on  me  one  morning  to  run  through  one  or  two 
passages  in  his  work ;  I  was  not  in  the  room,  so  he 
amused  himself  reading  through  Benedict's  "Richard 
Cceur  de  Lion,"  which  happened  to  be  lying  on  the 
piano,  as  I  was  studying  it  for  Norwich.  "Ach 
Gott !  "  said  he,  as  I  returned  to  my  room,  "what 
is  that  for  music?  It  is  so  weak  —  so  lemonade!" 
However,  at  Norwich  festival  the  week  after,  it 
proved  stronger  than  Mr.  Schachner  anticipated;  it 
was  a  great  success,  and  was  performed  several  times 
after  in  London  and  the  provinces.  After  Norwich 
I  joined  Mapleson's  company  for  the  operatic  tour, 
commencing  with  a  season  of  three  weeks  in  Dublin. 
Sims  Reeves  was  engaged  to  play  Edgardo,  Sir  Huon 
and  Faust.  "  Lucia  "  was  the  opera  on  the  opening 
night,  with  a  new  addition  to  our  company,  Elisa 
Yolpini,  a  charming  Spaniard  (who  made  a  real  suc- 
cess), Reeves,  and  myself.  I  played  Enrico  for  the 
first  time,  and  for  the  only  time,  in  the  costume  of 
the  Highlander  as  represented  outside  a  snuff-shop  — 


222         REMINISCENCES    OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

an  absurd  fashion  adopted  in  Italy  and  most  Italian 
theatres  at  that  time.  I  afterwards  had  a  dress  of 
my  own  made,  in  accordance  with  the  locale  in  which 
the  drama  takes  place.  A  photograph  of  me  in  this 
costume  was  standing  on  the  chimney-piece  of  the 
house  of  an  intimate  friend  of  mine  in  Scotland 
when  his  bailiff  called  upon  him  one  morning  to 
transact  some  business.  He  remarked,  "That  is  a 
very  good  portrait."  "  Do  you  recognize  the  like- 
ness ?  "  said  my  friend.  "•  Oh  yes,"  he  replied ;  "  it's 
Oliver  Cromwell ! " 

The  house  was  packed  to  suffocation  for  the  first 
performance  of  "  Faust " ;  expectation  had  been 
raised  to  such  a  pitch  by  the  notices  of  its  enormous 
success  in  London,  and  Tietjens,  Trebelli,  Reeves 
and  I  formed  a  very  attractive  cast.  The  opera  was 
received  with  immense  applause ;  on  the  stage  all 
went  well  without  a  hitch  until  the  church  scene. 
The  gods  used  to  amuse  themselves  between  the  acts 
of  an  opera  by  treating  their  friends  to  specimens 
of  their  own  local  talents,  and  would  not  allow  the 
opera  to  proceed  to  the  interruption  of  their  own 
displays.  It  happened  that  as  all  was  ready  to  com- 
mence the  third  act,  a  gentleman  aloft  was  regaling 
the  gallery  with  a  song.  The  audience  began  to 
show  signs  of  impatience,  as  they  were  more  inter- 
ested in  the  new  opera  than  in  the  celestial  amateur. 
Mapleson  also  grew  impatient,  and  gave  orders  to 
ring  up  the  curtain,  which  was  no  sooner  done  than 
a  storm  burst  out  in  the  gallery,  which  was  only 


REMINISCENCES    OF   CHARLES   SAXTLEY        223 

calmed  on  the  curtain  being  lowered  again  ;  the  gen- 
tleman then  continued  his  song.  At  the  conclusion 
a  voice  calmly  remarked :  "  Now  we're  reaclv ;  you 
can  go  on  as  soon  as  you  like  ! "  The  stage-manager 
rang  up  and  went  round  to  arrange  the  procession  on 
the  opposite  side.  Mephisto  had  to  appear  through 
a  trap  which  was  worked  according  to  signals  from 
the  stage  —  first  bell  to  make  ready,  second  to  send 
up,  third  to  lower.  Mapleson  came  round  again  very 
excited  by  the  disturbance  which  had  taken  place, 
gave  the  first  pull  and  retired ;  the  stage-manager 
returned  immediately  after  and  gave  what  he  thought 
the  pull  to  make  ready,  instead  of  which  up  came 
Mephisto,  long  before  he  was  wanted.  The  next  pull 
was  given  and  down  went  poor  Mephisto  just  as  he 
was  about  to  open  his  mouth ;  nor  could  he  induce 
the  carpenters  in  attendance  to  send  him  back  again, 
so  that  Marguerite  had  the  entire  scene  to  herself. 

I  found  the  Dublin  audience  very  enthusiastic  at 
all  times :  but  occasionally  the  facetiousness  of  the 
gallery  was  somewhat  troublesome.  My  first  experi- 
ence of  it  was  in  the  scene  of  Valentine's  death. 
After  the  duel,  Martha,  who  rushed  in  at  the  head 
of  the  crowd,  raised  my  head  and  held  me  in  her 
arms  during  the  first  part  of  the  scene.  There  was  a 
death-like  stillness  in  the  house,  which  was  inter- 
rupted by  a  voice  from  the  gallery  calling  out : 
"  Unbutton  his  weskit !  "  Of  course  the  untimely 
jest  caused  a  general  titter,  and  for  a  few  moments 
took  off  the  attention  of  the  greater  part  of  the  audi- 


224        REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SAXTLEY 

ence ;  I  felt  annoyed,  but  I  kept  my  attention  fixed 
on  my  work,  and  soon  succeeded  in  bringing  back 
that  of  the  audience  to  myself,  and  made  a  great 
success. 

A  great  many  stories  have  been  published  a  propos 
of  the  witticisms  indulged  in  by  the  gods  at  the 
Theatre  Royal,  Dublin ;  this  one  I  have  never  seen 
in  print.  A  celebrated  English  tenor,  by  no  means 
a  favourite  in  Dublin,  was  singing  on  its  first  pro- 
duction there  in  an  opera  b}*  Balfe,  which  had  been 
played  before  her  Majesty  the  Queen,  that  circum- 
stance being  duly  announced  in  playbills  and  adver- 
tisements. In  the  last  act  he  had  a  ballad  which  in 
London  was  rapturously  encored  every  evening  dur- 
ing the  run  of  the  opera.  In  Dublin  it  was  received 
in  dead  silence,  and  as  the  singer  retired  up  the  stage 
a  voice  from  the  gallery  demanded,  apparently  with 
great  curiosity :  "  And  was  that  the  way  you  sung  it 
for  the  Queen  ?  " 

One  night  when  I  was  playing  Plunkett  in  -  Marta  " 
at  the  end  of  the  "  Good-night "  quartette,  according 
to  the  business  arranged,  I  took  up  a  candle  and  pro- 
ceeded to  light  the  two  girls  to  their  room,  but  I  had 
scarcely  put  my  foot  inside  the  door  than  a  witty 
individual  called  out:  "Ah,  ah!  would  ye  now?" 
A  quiet  joke  like  that  at  the  end  of  an  act  can  do  no 
harm ;  but  in  the  midst  of  a  scene  like  the  death  of 
Valentine,  a  jest  is  both  ill-natured  and  vulgar :  it 
robs  those  who  are  interested  of  their  enjoyment,  it 
destroys,  for  a  time  at  least,  the  illusion,  and  distracts 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY        225 

the  performer  to  the  detriment  of  the  scene  he  is 
portraying.  In  the  case  of  the  tenor,  it  was  suffi- 
ciently humiliating  to  have  to  retire  without  applause ; 
the  jest,  although  perhaps  unintentionally  so,  was 
simply  brutal ! 

We  returned  from  the  provinces  to  London  for 
five  performances  at  her  Majesty's  Theatre  at  cheap 
prices,  "  Faust "  being  announced  for  the  opening 
night.  Sims  Reeves,  who  had  been  in  Wales,  sent 
word  to  say  he  had  caught  a  little  cold  and  could 
not  appear.  The  house  was  crammed  to  suffocation, 
and  there  was  nobody  in  the  company  who  knew  the 
part.  What  was  to  be  done?  It  would  have  been 
a  fearful  loss  to  dismiss  such  a  house,  and  there  was 
not  the  slightest  hope  of  them  accepting  any  other 
opera.  At  last  Volpini  (husband  of  the  prima  donna 
of  that  name)  was  prevailed  on  to  go  on,  and  went 
through  wonderfully  well  considering  that  what  he 
knew  of  the  music  he  had  only  picked  up  by  ear. 
A  little  knowledge  happened  to  be  a  very  useful 
thing  on  that  occasion. 


CHAPTER   XV 

Season  of  1864 —  '•  Faust  "  in  English  —  I  play  Mephisto  at  Short 
Notice  and  under  Difficulties  —  My  Daughter's  Terror  at  the 
Duel  Scene  —  "  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor  "  —  "  Mirella  "  —  The 
Shakespeare  Centenary  —  Music  hath  Charms  —  Costa's  ••  Xaa- 
man  "  —  Operatic  Tour  —  Off  to  Barcelona  —  We  lose  our  Way 
—  Stage  Properties  in  the  Custom-house  —  A  Land  of  Garlic  — 
Opera  at  Barcelona  —  "  Macbeth  "  —  Where's  the  Romance  ?  — 
Return  Home  —  With  Mapleson  in  Dublin. 

ON  the  23rd  of  January,  1864,  "Faust"  was 
brought  out  in  English  at  Her  Majesty's  Theatre, 
and  was  played  three  or  four  times  a  week  until  the 
5th  of  March.  I  played  my  original  part  Valentine, 
introducing  my  new  song ;  Reeves  was  the  Faust ; 
Marches!,  Mephisto ;  Madame  Lemmens-Sherrington, 
Marguerite ;  and  Madame  Florence  Lucia,  Siebel. 
Owing  to  a  misunderstanding  between  Marchesi  and 
the  management  respecting  a  renewal  of  his  engage- 
ment for  two  weeks  beyond  the  period  originally 
stipulated,  I  was  called  on  to  play  Mephisto  at  a 
short  notice  —  too  short  for  me  to  represent  the  part 
as  I  conceived  it.  I  should  have  liked  to  dress  it 
differently,  and  get  rid  of  that  abominable  red  cos- 
tume ;  but  I  had  no  time  to  arrange  anything,  barely 
sufficient  to  learn  my  music  thoroughly.  On  the 
226 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY       227 

first  night  I  essayed  the  part,  I  was  handicapped  by 
my  friend  Swift,  who  was  called  on  suddenly  to  take 
Reeves's  place.  As  usual,  he  did  not  know  his 
music,  and  was  quite  innocent  of  the  stage  business. 
Whenever  I  had  to  address  him,  I  could  not  find 
him ;  throughout  the  opera,  whenever  we  had  a  few 
bars'  rest,  he  left  the  scene  to  take  care  of  itself,  and 
retired  to  the  wings  to  study  what  was  coming.  I 
do  not  know  what  effect  his  vagaries  had  on  the 
audience,  but  on  me  they  were  most  distressing. 

My  eldest  daughter,  Edith,  was  taken  by  her 
mother  to  see  one  of  the  morning  performances,  her 
first  visit  to  a  theatre.  She  was  told  of  the  duel 
scene,  and  impressed  with  the  idea  that  it  was  only 
in  play,  in  case  it  might  startle  her.  All  went  well 
until  she  saw  Reeves  and  me  using  our  swords,  then 
the  little  mouth  began  to  pucker  up  and  the  lips  to 
tremble,  but  she  kept  on  repeating  to  herself,  "It's 
only  in  fun,"  until  at  last  I  received  the  fatal  wound 
and  fell ;  then  she  burst  out  into  a  yell,  and  had  to 
be  carried  out  of  the  theatre,  to  which  nothing  could 
induce  her  to  return.  She  was  not  satisfied  until  she 
saw  me  safely  seated  at  dinner. 

In  signing  a  new  agreement  with  Mapleson  for  the 
seasons  of  1864  and  1865,  I  did  not  notice  a  para- 
graph in  the  contract  which  precluded  me  from  sing- 
ing in  the  United  Kingdom  otherwise  than  at  Her 
Majesty's,  or  other  theatre  under  Mapleson's  manage- 
ment, except  by  his  permission.  I  was  engaged  for 
the  operatic  tour  in  the  autumn  of  1864  and  that  in 


228         RE.lfhVISCEA'CES   OF  CHAKLES  SANTLEY 

the  spring  of  1865,  but  I  had  some  months  to  fill  up 
between  the  two.  This  caused  me  some  anxiety,  as 
I  had  never  thought  of  singing  out  of  my  own  coun- 
try, and  consequently  had  not  cultivated  the  acquaint- 
ance of  any  of  the  agents  who  catered  for  the 
Continental  houses.  Through  the  instrumentality 
of  Volpini,  I  signed  a  contract  to  sing  at  the  Lyceum 
Theatre.  Barcelona,  for  three  months,  from  about  the 
1st  of  December. 

In  the  season  of  1864  three  operas,  new  for  Eng- 
land, were  announced.  Of  these  only  one,  "  The 
Merry  Wives  of  Windsor."  with  the  title  of  "  Fal- 
staff,"  was  produced.  It  was  one  of  the  operas  in 
which  I  enjoyed  myself.  I  had  little  anxiety,  as, 
with  the  exception  of  the  duet  with  Falstaff,  there 
\vas  nothing  of  any  importance  to  sing,  and  that  was 
not  very  exigent.  Tietjens  and  a  very  good  contralto 
from  Vienna,  Caroline  Bettelheim,  played  the  two 
merry  wives;  Gassier  and  I  their  respective  hus- 
bands ;  Junca  was  Falstaff :  Giuglini,  Fenton  :  Gui- 
seppina  Vitali,  a  fair  soprano,  Anne  Page.  Manfredi 
played  Slender  (Lyall  played  it  in  after-seasons,  and 
admirably),  and  Mazzetti,  Dr.  Cains,  very  indiffer- 
ently. The  opera  was  well  put  on  the  stage ;  the 
moonlight  scene  in  Windsor  Forest  at  the  end  was 
one  of  Telbin's  masterpieces.  Tietjens  and  I  used  to 
have  great  fun  in  the  scene  when  Ford  empties  the 
buck  basket,  expecting  to  find  Falstaff  hidden  therein, 
I  turning  out  the  foul  linen  and  she  pelting  me  with 
it.  though  occasionally  it  was  a  somewhat  unsavoury 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY        229 

game,  for,  to  carry  out  the  illusion,  like  the  man  who 
[tainted  himself  black  all  over  to  play  Othello,  our 
property  man  supplied  linen  -which  was  decidedly  foul. 

"La  forza  del  destine"  was  not  brought  out  until 
some  years  later,  and  "Tannhauser"  not  at  all  dur- 
ing my  Italian  career.  I  always  regret  this,  as  I  had 
a  great  desire  to  play  Wolfram.  Gounod's  "  Mirella," 
which  had  not  been  promised,  was  produced  on  the 
5th  of  July.  Tie t jens  played  "  Mirella,"  a  part 
which  I  never  thought  suited  her.  I  had  little  to 
do  in  it.  and  that  little  was  cut  down  after  the  first 
night.  Owing  in  a  great  measure,  I  believe,  to  an 
accident,  the  whole  of  the  scene  between  Yincenzo 
and  Ourrias  at  the  beginning  of  the  third  act  was 
left  out.  Ourrias,  who  has  sworn  to  take  Vincenzo's 
life,  strikes  down  Vincenzo  as  he  leaves  the  scene. 
Giuglini  would  not  rehearse  the  stage  business ;  the 
consequence  was  he  did  not  drop  down  at  the  right 
moment,  and  my  stick,  coming  in  contact  with  his 
head,  brought  him  down  with  a  sounding  thwack. 
This  opera  was  also  well  put  on  the  stage,  and  well 
played  throughout ;  all  of  us  engaged  in  it  exerted 
ourselves  to  the  utmost  to  make  another  success  for 
Gounod.  Carvalho  and  his  brother-in-law  Miolan 
came  over  from  Paris  on  purpose  to  superintend  the 
last  rehearsals. 

To  assist  in  making  the  cast  of  "  Fidelio  "  as  com- 
plete as  possible,  I  undertook  the  small  part  of  the 
••Ministro";  I  also  played  Plunkett  in  "Martha," 
and  during  the  after-season,  for  the  first  time,  the 
Duke  in  "  Lucrezia  Borgia." 


230         REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

The  Shakespeare  Centenary  Festival  took  place  at 
Stratford-on-Avon  in  April,  at  which  I  sang  in  a 
miscellaneous  concert  and  "  The  Messiah."  I  was 
much  amused  when  I  went  to  the  hall  for  the  latter 
performance  to  find  men  parading  outside  the  doors 
bearing  placards  warning  the  public  not  to  enter  and 
listen  to  the  devil's  drums  and  trumpets.  Mellon 
wrote  a  song  for  me  to  the  words  "Take,  oh  take, 
those  lips  away,"  which  I  sang  at  the  miscellaneous 
concert,  and  also  at  the  supper  held  at  the  Free- 
masons' Tavern  on  the  eve  of  Shakespeare's  birthday, 
accompanied  by  Benedict.  The  assembly  had  become 
very  much  excited  in  consequence  of  a  scene  between 
some  partisans  of  G.  V.  Brooke  J  (who,  unknown  to 
most  of  the  guests,  was  present)  and  the  chairman, 
Benjamin  Webster.  The  confusion  and  clamour 
became  intolerable.  It  was  suggested  that  the  only 
way  of  restoring  order  would  be  for  me  to  sing ;  I 
complied,  and  in  an  instant  silence  prevailed.  I  had 

1  Gustavus  Vasa  Brooke  was  born  in  Dublin :  he  was  a  student 
at  Trinity  College.  On  an  occasion  when  a  favourite  actor  disap- 
pointed the  public,  he  offered  his  services  to  play  "Hamlet." 
There  was  no  dress  in  the  theatre  to  fit  him,  and  he  played  the 
part  in  a  velveteen  jacket.  His  success  was  such  that  he  devoted 
himself  forthwith  to  the  stage.  He  made  his  first  appearance  in 
London,  at  the  Olympic  Theatre,  in  the  part  of  Othello  with  great 
success.  He  was  a  great  favourite  in  the  provinces,  especially  in 
Liverpool.  In  Australia  he  was  the  idol  of  the  public.  He  was 
on  board  the  London,  making  his  second  voyage  to  Australia, 
when  that  steamer  took  fire.  Nothing  would  induce  him  to  leave 
her.  He  remained  assisting  the  other  passengers  to  escape  until  it 
was  too  late  to  save  himself,  and  so  lost  his  life. 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY       231 

scarcely  finished  the  last  note  when  the  room  became 
a  perfect  pandemonium ;  the  guests  mounted  on  the 
tables,  cheering  and  waving  their  handkerchiefs, 
insisting  upon  an  "  encore."  With  this  I  also  com- 
plied, and  then,  rinding  the  disturbance  was  about  to 
re-commence,  I  made  my  escape. 

I  had  little  time  for  a  holiday,  as  the  season  ended 
on  the  loth  of  August,  and  the  Hereford  festival 
began  on  the  30th.  I  had  not  very  heavy  work  to 
do  :  the  second  part  of  the  "  Creation  "  :  the  music 
of  Rossini's  "  Stabat  Mater,"  with  English  words, 
which  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  Latin  hymn  :  a 
part  of  the  "Messiah'';  Benedict's  "Richard,"  and 
sundry  pieces  at  the  evening  concerts.  The  Bir- 
mingham festival  followed  on  the  oth  of  September. 
Here  I  had  more  to  do,  namely,  Elisha  in  Costa's 
"  Naaman."  performed  for  the  first  time ;  the  whole 
of  the  bass  solos  in  the  "  Messiah  " ;  Sullivan's  can- 
tata -  Kenilworth,"  and  songs  in  the  miscellaneous 
concerts.  The  part  of  Elisha  was  written  for  Belletti, 
but  as  he  had  left  England  and  retired  from  pro- 
fessional life,  it  was  Costa's  desire  I  should  undertake 
it.  It  suited  me  exactly,  and  I  succeeded  in  satisfy- 
ing Costa  with  my  performance.  Like  Balfe,  he 
knew  how  to  write  for  singers,  an  all-important  essen- 
tial in  writing  a  vocal  work.  Whatever  else  they 
may  have  to  find  fault  with  in  Costa's  work,  our 
young  composers  would  do  well  to  study  his  treat- 
ment of  the  voice,  a  subject  on  which  they  apparently 
have  never  bestowed  a  thought.  At  a  pianoforte 


232        REMINISCENCES    OF  CHARLES  S  A  NT  LEY 

rehearsal  at  the  Maestro's  house,  where  all  the  singers 
taking  part  in  the  work  were  assembled,  I  had,  as 
usual,  an  attack  of  nervousness ;  the  first  words  I 
had  to  sing  were,  "  What  can  I  do  for  thee  ? "  I 
had  lost  my  head,  and  did  not  sing  the  right  notes, 
although  there  is  no  difficulty  about  them.  Costa 
turned  round  laughing,  and  replied  to  the  question, 
"  Sing  in  tune  !  " 

The  operatic  tour  followed  immediately,  about 
which  I  have  nothing  particular  to  record,  except 
that  Gardoni  was  our  principal  tenor,  a  fine  singer, 
and  a  much  better  actor  than  he  generally  had  credit 
for.  He  was  a  very  good  Faust  and  Sir  Huon, 
although  the  music  of  the  latter,  written  for  Braham, 
did  not  suit  him.  In  Mirella  he  was  excellent,  a 
great  improvement  in  every  way  on  Giuglini.  I 
never  could  understand  why  Gardoni  should  be  com- 
paratively forgotten,  and  Giuglini  quoted  as  one  of 
the  great  artists  who  have  lived.  Gardoni  was  the 
superior  in  every  way ;  his  voice  wras  pure,  Giuglini's 
was  throaty.  He  was  a  handsome  man,  and  in  parts 
which  suited  him  an  excellent  actor.  Giuglini  was 
an  awkward,  ungainly  man,  and  no  actor  at  all;  Gar- 
doni could  sing  any  style  of  music,  cantabile  or  florid: 
Giuglini  could  not  execute  a  rapid  passage  of  four 
notes.  What  I  conceive  established  him  as  a  great 
favourite  was  a  lackadaisical  sentimentality  which  the 
public,  especially  the  British  public,  accepts  for  poetic 
sentiment.  Withal,  Giuglini  was  the  last  of  his  race ; 
there  has  been  no  tenor  on  the  Italian  stage  since 
who  has  been  able  to  fill  the  place  he  left  vacant. 


REMINISCENCES    OF   CHARLES   S ANT  LEY        233 

I  started  for  Barcelona  towards  the  end  of  Novem- 
ber. At  Paris  I  called  on  the  agent  Verger  to  receive 
a  month's  pay  in  advance  according  to  my  contract, 
but  the  money  had  not  arrived.  I  amused  myself 
taking  my  wife,  who  accompanied  me,  sight-seeing. 
Mapleson  was  in  Paris  also  at  the  time  looking  after 
novelties,  and  we  all  went  one  night  to  the  Theatre 
Lyrique,  where  they  were  playing  •'  The  Magic 
Mute,"  in  which  Madame  ( 'arvalho  played  Pamina, 
and  Christine  Nilsson  "  Astraffiammante."  I  was 
very  much  delighted  with  Madame  Carvalho ;  it  was 
the  only  time  I  ever  heard  Pamina's  air  really  sung. 
I  do  not  remember  any  singer  who  sang  Mozart's 
music  so  well  as  she  did ;  one  of  her  favourite  songs 
in  private  concerts  was  "Voi  che  sapete,"  which  was 
simply  the  perfection  of  singing.  The  last  time  I 
heard  her  was  in  the  part  of  the  Countess  in  "Le 
im/ze  di  Figaro";  although  her  voice,  never  a  great 
one,  was  much  worn  and  sharp,  her  singing  of  the  air 
"Dovesono"  was  one  of  the  finest  pieces  of  vocal 
declamation  I  ever  heard.  I  was  not  at  all  impressed 
with  Nilsson ;  she  had  a  charming  voice,  but  her 
singing  was  mechanical,  and  altogether  her  perform- 
ance was  stiff  and  cold.  Mozart's  music  is  easy  to 
"get  through,"  but  most  difficult  to  tsimj.  The  money 
was  so  long  on  the  road  that  Verger  advised  me  not 
to  wait,  but  to  go  on  to  Barcelona,  where  it  would  be 
"  all  right.''  I  had  not  sufficient  confidence,  and  pre- 
ferred waiting  in  Paris  without  being  at  the  expense 
and  trouble  of  a  journey  to  Spain  ;  but  I  gave  notice 


234          XE^fLYISCEA7CES    OF   CHARLES   SANTLEY 

that  at  the  expiration  of  a  given  number  of  days  more 
I  would  wend  my  way  back  to  England.  Perhaps 
this  had  the  effect  of  wakening  them  up,  for  the 
amount  arrived,  and  I  started.  I  forgot  to  add  that 
I  saw  "  Un  ballo  in  maschera  "  at  the  Italian  opera 
during  my  stay  in  Paris,  with  Madame  Charton-De- 
meure,  Fraschini,  Delle-Sedie,  etc.  Except  that  Fras- 
chini  had  a  splendid  voice,  and  the  men  in  the  stalls 
generally  wore  black  dress-coats  and  lavender  or 
other  light-coloured  pants,  and,  that  the  necks  of  the 
double  basses  might  not  interfere  with  a  view  of 
the  stage,  the  instruments  were  buried  in  holes  in  the 
floor  of  the  orchestra,  so  that  they  might  as  well  have 
been  played  in  the  next  street,  there  was  nothing 
which  struck  me  particularly.  We  stayed  at  a  hotel 
kept  by  a  man  who  had  been  concierye  of  that  I  gen- 
erally put  up  at,  in  consequence  of  a  letter  he  wrote 
me,  promising  all  sorts  of  comforts  and  conveniences 
at  very  moderate  rates.  The  hotel  was  small,  the 
rooms  were  small,  the  number  of  guests  was  very 
small,  being  limited  to  three  —  my  wife,  self,  and 
manservant.  The  waiter,  a  most  shaky-looking  young- 
man,  I  found,  on  inquiring  about  his  health,  slept 
over  an  open  drain.  The  only  things  I  found  sup- 
plied on  a  liberal  scale  were  dust  and  the  bill.  After 
a  great  deal  of  experience  of  hostelries,  I  have  con- 
cluded that  the  only  cheap  one  is  that  in  which  you 
can  procure  what  you  want,  whatever  you  have  to 
pay  for  it. 

The  journey  from  Paris  was  decidedly  tiresome. 


XEJIIXISCENCES   OF   CHARLES   SAXTLEV         235 

To  relieve  the  monotony  we  got  on  the  wrong  route. 
The  evening  after  we  left,  I  began  to  think  we  were 
very  late  arriving  at  Perpignan,  so  after  a  little  hes- 
itation I  asked  a  gentleman  what  time  we  ought  to 
reach  it.  "Oh."  said  lie.  "you  are  not  on  the  way 
there;  you  ought  to  have  changed  at  Xarbomu'." 
"Then,"  said  I.  "where  on  earth  are  we  going  to?" 
"  You  are  on  the  road  to  Marseilles,  and  we  shall  stop 
soon  at  Cette,  where  you  had  better  get  out  and  take 
the  early  morning  train  back  to  Perpignan.  Tliey 
will  send  you  back  free  of  expense  if  you  explain 
that  you  were  not  warned  about  the  change  at  Nar- 
bonne."  I  thanked  my  kind  fellow-traveller  cordially. 
I  did  not  meet  with  quite  such  a  friendly  reception 
from  the  station-master  at  Cette,  though,  as  my  friend 
predicted,  I  did  not  understand  much  of  what  he  said. 
but  it  sounded  very  like  abuse  to  my  ears.  How- 
ever, station-master  number  two  was  more  civil,  and 
promised  to  make  all  straight  for  us.  There  was 
nothing  for  it  but  to  find  a  resting-place  for  the  night, 
which  was  soon  accomplished.  We  partook  sparingly 
of  a  very  uninviting  meal,  and  drank  the  sourest 
liquid  called  wine  I  ever  tasted.  We  hurried  off 
while  it  Mas  still  dark  next  morning,  instead  of 
taking  a  good  long  rest,  and  found,  on  arriving  at 
Perpignan,  that  the  diligence  did  not  start  until  eight 
or  nine  in  the  evening.  The  atmosphere  was  still,  to 
us,  summery.  We  strolled  about  and  enjoyed  the 
sun  and  blue  sky.  According  to  the  "  Encyclopaedia 
Britannica"  there  are  some  sights  to  see  —  a  cath- 


2.56         XEMLVISCEXCES   OF  CHARLES  S  A  NT  LEY 

eclral,  etc. ;  but  we  did  not  know  of  them,  so  the}-  re- 
mained unvisited.  From  Perpignan  we  crossed  the 
Pyrenees  to  Gerona  in  a  diligence  drawn  for  most  of 
the  journey  by  the  most  wretched  cattle  I  ever  beheld, 
and  inhabited  by  industrious  fleas.  We  arrived  at 
the  frontier  about  five  in  the  morning,  and  had  to 
wait  a  couple  of  hours  for  the  Custom-house  officer 
to  examine  our  baggage.  There  was  a  sort  of  ealYo 
on  each  side  of  the  narrow  street.  I  tried  both,  but 
found  it  would  be  impossible  to  make  a  meal  in  either. 
Each  of  the  rooms  I  entered  had  a  fire  in  the  middle 
of  the  floor,  round  which  squatted  three  or  four  old 
crones  looking  like  the  witches  watching  the  caldron 
in  "  Macbeth,"  who  did  not  even  take  the  trouble  to 
ask  me  if  I  wanted  anything.  I  do  not  as  a  rule  look 
for  dirt  when  I  am  travelling,  and  often  do  not  see 
it  when  it  gives  great  offence  to  many  ;  but  here 
no  search  was  necessary,  it  was  evident  to  the  dullest 
vision. 

I  had  among  my  luggage  three  large  boxes  con- 
taining stage  necessaries  —  tights,  shirts,  collars,  wigs, 
etc.  The  officer  pounced  upon  one  of  these  to  be 
opened ;  he  was  very  much  astonished  when  he  found 
an  assortment  of  firearms,  swords,  daggers,  etc.,  inter- 
spersed with  imitation  jewellery,  decorations,  etc. : 
he  was  nevertheless  very  polite,  and  when  I  informed 
him  whither  I  was  bound,  and  for  what  purpose,  he 
ordered  the  box  to  be  closed  and  not  another  package 
to  be  touched. 

Before    arriving   at    Gerona    we  had   to  ford  two 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY       237 

streams,  one  of  them  deep,  and  with  a  rapid  current. 
Fortunately  we  had  better  horses  than  during  most 
of  the  journey.  It  was  afternoon  when  we  arrived 
at  Gerona,  very  hungiy,  but  we  could  not  find  a 
morsel  of  food ;  the  only  attempt  at  eatables  was 
some  large  almond  comfits,  which  were  anything  but 
comforting  to  an  empty  stomach.  The  train  seemed 
to  travel  as  it  was  convenient  to  the  engine-driver; 
we  stopped  at  every  station,  and  many  times  where 
there  was  no  sign  of  one,  but  we  did  ultimately  arrive 
at  Barcelona.  There  we  had  another  Custom-house 
visit ;  after  the  usual  preliminaries  I  was  ordered  — 
they  were  not  so  polite  as  at  the  frontier  —  to  open 
my  wife's  portmanteau.  The  inspector  thought  he 
had  discovered  a  prize  in  a  large  paper  parcel  which 
lay  on  the  top  of  the  contents,  and  asked  me  what  it 
was.  I  told  him  I  did  not  know,  and  he  had  better 
unfold  it  and  find  out.  There  were  so  many  folds  of 
paper  about  it,  I  wondered  myself  what  precious 
article  it  could  be.  At  last  the  unrolling  came  to 
an  end,  and  out  fell  an  old  pair  of  stays.  I  could 
not  help  indulging  in  a  quiet  snigger  as  I  received 
instructions  to  fasten  up  the  portmanteau  and  clear 
out. 

There  was  no  mistake  about  being  in  the  land  of 
garlic ;  each  time  the  omnibus  conductor  put  his 
head  inside  the  vehicle  I  imagined  I  could  see  the 
fumes  floating  about  in  the  atmosphere,  they  were  so 
dense.  The  odour  I  had  already  become  accustomed 
to ;  it  began  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  before  arriving 


238        REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

at  the  first  Spanish  village,  gradually  increasing 
until  we  arrived  at  Barcelona,  where  it  reached  its 
zenith.  In  about  half  an  hour  after  my  arriving  at 
the  hotel,  "  de  las  cuatro  naciones,"  I  became  pos- 
sessed of,  to  me,  some  curious  facts.  The  manager 
with  whom  my  contract  was  made  did  not  exist,  so 
far  as  Barcelona  was  concerned;  my  name  was 
entirely  unknown,  as  it  had  not  appeared  in  the 
announcements,  and  the  proprietor  of  the  hotel  who 
gave  me  the  information  seemed  to  me  to  be  wonder- 
ing what  mad  freak  had  brought  me  so  far  away  from 
home.  However,  I  sent  over  a  card  to  the  manager 
informing  him  of  my  arrival,  and  that  I  was  at  his 
disposal  whenever  he  had  need  of  me.  To  make  all 
complete,  the  dinner,  even  after  such  a  long  fast,  was 
very  bad,  and  the  wine  detestable.  By  appointment 
I  had  an  interview  with  the  manager  next  day,  and 
it  was  arranged  I  was  to  make  my  first  appearance 
with  a  tenor  who  had  just  arrived  in  a  few  days  in 
"II  Trovatore."  I  was  only  acquainted  with  one 
member  of  the  company,  the  orchestral  conductor, 
Bottesini,  and  he  was  going  away  to  fulfil  another 
engagement,  and  would  not  be  conducting  when  I 
made  my  de*but.  Before  his  departure  they  played 
an  opera  of  his,  "  Marion  Delorme,"  in  which  there 
was  some  very  good  music,  but  I  have  never  heard  of 
it  since.  We  had  a  rehearsal  every  day  of  "II  Trova- 
tore "  at  the  piano  for  about  ten  days,  and  one  or  two 
with  the  orchestra,  and  the  general  rehearsal  the  night 
before  the  first  performance.  I  found  myself  in  excel- 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY        239 

lent  voice  when  I  started,  and  sang  through  the  first 
act  with  great  vigour.  Everybody  seemed  perfectly 
satisfied,  and  prophesied  all  kinds  of  good  things; 
but  suddenly,  whilst  I  was  talking  after  the  curtain 
dropped,  my  voice  left  me,  and  I  could  scarcely 
whisper.  I  had  to  go  through  the  remainder  of  the 
rehearsal  in  dumb  show;  when  I  returned  to  the 
hotel  I  was  perfectly  miserable,  and  really  began  to 
think  it  was  a  mad  freak  to  come  away  so  far  from 
home.  The  next  day  when  I  awoke  I  found  my 
voice  quite  clear  and  right  again ;  the  loss  of  it  was 
caused,  not  by  cold,  but  by  nervous  excitement,  which 
a  good  night's  rest  had  carried  off.  I  went  more 
cautiously  about  my  work  at  the  performance,  hus- 
banding my  resources  somewhat  in  the  beginning. 
The  public  received  me  with  great  favour ;  they 
applauded  almost  every  phrase,  and  after  my  song 
"  II  balen,"  I  was  called  down  to  the  footlights  sev- 
eral times. 

I  made  my  mark  with  the  public,  and  retained 
their  sympathy  throughout  my  stay.  My  second 
opera  was  "  Rigoletto,''  which  I  had  not  played 
before ;  that  was  followed  by  "  La  Traviata,"  in 
which  I  received  a  tremendous  ovation  after  "Di 
Provenza,"  an  air  which,  in  my  opinion,  is  often  too 
severely  criticised.  If  it  is  sung  as  a  barrel-organ 
would  play  it,  I  confess  it  is  monotonous  and  com- 
monplace ;  but  if  artistically  sung  and  declaimed,  it 
is  neither  one  nor  the  other,  but  a  charming  and 
effective  song. 


240        REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

In  "  Rigoletto  "  the  first  night  I  was  so  terribly  in 
earnest  that  in  the  last  scene  I  ripped  open  the  sack 
without  thinking  what  it  might  contain,  and  to  my 
horror  beheld  an  enormous  black  moustache.  I  closed 
it  again  instantly,  but  the  audience  had  already  seen, 
and  a  general  titter  ensued. 

I  seemed  to  have  got  into  a  sea  of  Verdi,  for  after 
this  they  wished  me  to  play  "Macbeth."  I  was 
sorely  tempted,  I  was  so  anxious  to  try  it ;  but  I 
could  not  see  anything  approaching  a  Lady  Macbeth 
in  the  prima  donna  to  whom  the  part  was  entrusted, 
and  the  mise  en  scene,  as  far  as  I  could  make  out,  was 
the  most  inappropriate.  It  was  produced  with  Col- 
onnese,  a  basso  cantante,  for  whom  the  part  was  much 
too  high;  however  he  succeeded  in  going  through  it 
all  except  the  romance  in  the  last  act,  which  he  sup- 
pressed. In  Barcelona,  it  was  a  recognized  rule  that 
an  opera  should  be  played  entire,  unless  it  was 
announced  that  certain  pieces  would  be  left  out.  No 
notice  was  taken  in  the  bills  of  the  romance  in  "  Mac- 
beth," «onsequently  the  audience  were  all  on  the  qui 
vive  to  hear  it,  and  when  they  found  it  was  passed 
over,  and  the  last  scene  commenced,  some  disap- 
pointed individual  in  the  gallery  called  out,  "  But 
where's  the  romance?"  Others  joined  in,  until  at 
last  there  arose  a  fearful  hubbub ;  the  curtain  went 
down,  and  after  a  few  moments'  pause  out  came  the 
call-boy  to  explain  to  the  audience  that  M.  Colonnese 
was  not  accustomed  to  sing  the  romance,  and  did  not 
know  it,  therefore  could  not  oblige  them.  He  with- 


REMINISCENCES    OF  CHARLES   S A  XT  LEY        241 

drew,  and  the  storm  burst  out  again  more  furiously 
than  before ;  they  were  determined  to  sit  there  until 
they  heard  the  romance.  Again  the  call-boy  made 
his  appearance ;  silence  was  restored  after  a  time, 
and  he  told  them  that  M.  Colonnese,  although  he  had 

O 

never  sung  the  piece,  and  did  not  know  it  without 
the  music,  would  come  forward  and  sing  it  if  they 
would  allow  him  to  read  it  from  the  score.  "  Oh 
yes ; "  with  or  without  the  score,  it  did  not  matter,  so 
that  he  sang  the  romance.  The  curtain  rose,  and  on 
came  Colonnese,  looking  rather  sheepish,  with  the 
score  of  the  opera,  and  went  through  the  piece.  At 
the  end  he  received  a  tremendous  round  of  applause, 
and  the  opera  was  allowed  to  proceed  in  perfect 
quietness. 

T  was  very  glad,  when  I  had  seen  it,  that  I  had 
kept  to  my  resolution  not  to  play  in  it.  The  mise  en 
scene  and  dressing  were  simply  ludicrous.  The 
witches  were  got  up  after  the  fashion  of  Mother 
Hubbard,  with  hats  and  crutch-sticks,  and  short  petti- 
coats just  below  the  knee,  made  of  plaid  stuff  of  such 
patterns  as  were  never  worn  in  or  out  of  Scotland. 
Mat-duff  wore  a  Highland  kilt  with  a  well-starched 
smooth  white  collar  round  his  neck,  and  instead  of  a 
claymore  he  carried  a  small  neat  dress-sword  hanging 
at  his  belt.  He  had  his  hair  nicely  curled,  and 
altogether  looked  very  spruce.  Lady  Macbeth  wore 
a  white  flowing  robe,  with  an  enormous  tartan  sash 
of  no  particular  clan,  and  only  wanted  a  touch  of  the 
brogue  to  make  her  complete.  I  played  Enrico  in 


242         REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

"  Lucia,"  the  small  part  of  Oberthal  in  "  II  Prof  eta," 
to  oblige  the  management,  and  lastly  Renato  in  "  Un 
ballo  in  rnaschera." 

Spite  of  sundry  discomforts,  I  enjoyed  my  three 
months'  stay  in  Barcelona.  The  bright  sky  and  sun, 
instead  of  the  foq-  and  darkness  in  Enqland,  were 

o  o 

more  than  sufficient  to  atone  for  the  indifferent  food 
and  accommodation  I  found.  The  audience  at  the 
opera  was  very  exigent,  and  at  times  they  used  to 
indulge  in  rather  coarse  invective  when  they  were 
not  satisfied ;  but  personally  I  found  them  very  inter- 
ested and  attentive,  and  profuse  in  applause.  The 
drawback  against  this  was  the  difficulty  I  had  in 
conjuring  money  out  of  the  managerial  treasury : 
as  I  went  in  at  one  door  the  manager  escaped  by 
another,  a  game  of  which  I  soon  grew  tired.  Even 
legal  threats  produced  no  effect.  After  some  days 
of  fruitless  endeavour  to  catch  my  man,  I  pinned  him 
at  last  in  a  cul-de-sac,  and  then  and  there  explained 
my  intention  —  unless  the  money  due  to  me  was 
forthcoming  before  twelve  the  following  day.  to  leave 
Barcelona  by  the  diligence  the  same  evening.  As  I 
had  become  a  favourite  with  the  public,  he  could  not 
afford  to  lose  my  services,  and  before  the  appointed 
hour  my  claim  was  satisfied.  Knowing  where  the 
shoe  pinched,  I  had  not  so  much  difficulty  in  obtain- 
ing what  was  justly  due  to  me  afterwards. 

The  Lyceum  is  a  splendid  theatre  —  like  the  Scala, 
very  good  for  sound  —  but  the  habit  of  smoking  in 
the  corridors  and  in  the  ante-chambers  of  the  boxes 


REMINISCENCES   OF   CHARLES   SAXTLEY        243 

renders  the  atmosphere  very  unpleasant,  even  to  a 
smoker,  to  sing  in ;  the  lady  singers  must  find  it  very 
trying,  unless  they  an-  sufficiently  strong-minded  to 
indulge  in  a  whiff  themselves.  At  times,  when  there 
was  a  very  full  house,  towards  the  end  of  the  opera, 
the  back  of  the  pit  was  scarcely  discernible  from  the 
stage,  in  consequence  of  the  dense  cloud  of  smoke 
which  hung  over  it.  The  orchestra  and  chorus  were 
both  very  fair,  and  Castagneri,  who  succeeded  Bot- 
tesini,  was  a  very  able  conductor,  besides  being  a 
very  amiable  man.  For  my  last  performance  I  played 
"  Rigoletto,"  after  which  I  was  called  out  several 
times  to  receive  a  farewell  ovation. 

The  next  day,  my  birthday.  I  started  on  my  return 
journey,  with  Bottesini's  father  under  my  care  as  far 
as  Paris.  I  had  only  two  days  at  home,  and  then 
started  to  join  Mapleson's  company  at  Dublin.  I 
arrived  on  the  morning  of  their  Ill's t  performance. 
During  the  forenoon  I  strolled  over  to  the  theatre, 
and  found  them  rehearsing  "  Lucrezia  Borgia."  The 
gentleman  who  had  undertaken  the  part  of  the  Duke 
seemed  to  know  very  little  of  it,  and  I  wondered 
how  he  was  going  to  get  through  it.  After  awhile 
Tietjens  espied  me  standing  in  the  wings,  rushed  off 
the  stage,  and  begged  of  me  to  sing  in  the  evening. 
I  pleaded  fatigue  after  my  journey  from  Spain  and 
across  to  Dublin,  and  I  feared  I  should  not  remember 
the  part,  as  I  had  only  sung  it  once  or  twice,  and 
that  some  time  ago.  However,  she  said:  "If  you 
don't  sing,  the  theatre  must  be  closed.  You  hear 


244        REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

that  poor  man  hardly  knows  a  note  of  his  part,  and 
Swift  (my  everlasting  friend)  is  so  hoarse  he  can 
scarcely  make  a  sound."  I  ultimately  gave  way. 
and  did  sing  at  night,  and  such  a  comical  perform- 
ance I  never  before  or  since  took  part  in.  Wherever 
the  tenor  had  anything  important  to  do,  we  cut  the 
music  according  as  Arditi  called  to  us  from  the 
orchestra.  Two  or  three  times  we  were  on  the  point 
of  having  a  disturbance  in  the  gallery ;  nothing  but 
the  respect  the  audience  entertained  for  Tietjens 
and  myself  could  have  prevented  it.  We  arrived  at 
the  end,  and  the  curtain  dropped  to  a  storm  of  howl- 
ing and  hissing ;  but  we  had  saved  the  performance, 
and  went  home  content. 

Towards  the  end  of  March  I  made  my  first  appear- 
ance in  Italian  opera  in  my  native  town  at  the  old 
Theatre  Royal.  It  seemed  like  a  dream  to  find  my- 
self on  the  stage  which  I  had  ten  years  before  con- 
templated with  longing  eyes,  without  a  ray  of  hope 
that  I  should  ever  appear  on  it.  It  was  a  most  sym- 
pathetic old  theatre,  easy  both  to  speak  and  sing  in. 
We  played  "  Faust,"  "  Trovatore,"  etc.  We  finished 
the  spring  tour  at  Manchester.  In  addition  to  the 
operas  already  in  my  repertoire  I  played  Carlo 
Quinto  in  u  Krnani." 


CHAPTER   XVI 

Season  of  1865  —  Loss  of  Giuglini  —  Advent  of  De  Murska  —  I 
play  Papageno,  and  sip  a  Cup  of  Castor-oil  —  A  Panic  Avtrttd 

—  Gloucester  Festival  —  "  Don  Giovanni "  —  Telbin's  Skeletons 

—  My  Season  at  the  Scala  —  "  Trovatore  "  :  a  Critical  Audi- 
ence—  Too  many  Cooks  —  I  escape  from  Milan. 

Ix  the  season  of  1865  two  events  occurred  of 
importance.  Giuglini.  who  had  been  ill  for  some 
months,  had  fallen  into  so  hopeless  a  condition  that 
his  name  \vus  withdrawn  from  the  prospectus  —  a 
great  disappointment  to  the  subscribers  and  fre- 
quenters of  Her  Majesty's  Theatre.  He  was  ordered 
back  to  his  native  place  by  his  medical  advisers, 
where  he  lingered  until  12th  October.  He  was  ;i 
great  loss,  and  as  a  singer  he  has  never  been 
replaced;  he  was  the  last  tenor  who  appeared  in 
England  of  the  real  Italian  school.  There  have 
been  more  powerful  lungs,  and  more  energetic  limbs, 
but  not  one  of  the  tenors  who  succeeded  him  could 
compare  with  him  as  a  singer;  his  phrasing  was 
perfect,  which  everyone  who  heard  him  in  "  I  Puri- 
tani,"  "Faust,"  "Lucrezia  Borgia,''  and  many  other 
operas,  will  readily  admit. 

The  other  great  event  was  the  first  appearance  of 

lima    de   Murska  in    "Lucia."     She   made   a   great 

245 


246        REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

success  artistically  and  financially;  throughout  the 
season  she  drew  crowded  houses  whenever  she 
appeared.  She  was  an  excellent  artist,  and  an 
accomplished  and  exceedingly  well-read  woman. 
She  possessed  undoubted  genius,  though  of  a  some- 
what erratic  order.  She  possessed  something  else 
Avhich  was  not  so  pleasant  —  a  big  black  dog  named 
Pluto,  who  accompanied  her  wherever  she  went. 
He  used  to  attend  rehearsals  until  I  found  his  odour 
so  offensive  that  I  insisted  on  his  being  turned  out 
of  the  green-room,  for  which  I  was  severely  repri- 
manded by  his  mistress.  Although  her  voice  would 
class  her  as  a  light  soprano,  she  was,  in  my  opinion, 
much  more  at  home  in  the  dramatic  than  the  florid 
opera.  For  instance,  her  Senta  in  the  "Flying 
Dutchman  "  was  by  far  the  finest  impersonation  of 
all  the  characters  I  have  seen  her  play.  In  "Lucia," 
in  the  "Sonnambula,"  "Linda,"  etc.,  it  was  in  the 
dramatic  scenes  where  she  made  her  success.  Her 
Leonora  in  the  "Trovatore"  was  admirable;  I  do 
not  remember  any  finer.  She  was  most  eccentric 
in  her  ways,  which  may  be  accounted  for  in  some 
measure  by  the  manners  and  customs  of  the  people 
among  whom  she  was  born  and  brought  up,  which, 
according  to  her  narration,  must  have  closely  bor- 
dered on  savagery.  I  was  conversing  with  her  on 
one  occasion  about  the  language  of  her  native  coun- 
try, Croatia,  when  she  informed  me  that  the  low 
peasantry  were  mere  cannibals,  that  when  they  were 
blessed  with  more  children  than  they  could  conven- 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY        247 

iently  provide  for  they  devoured  the  infants.  I 
thought  she  must  be  jesting,  and  told  her  so,  but  she 
assured  me  seriously  it  was  a  fact.  She  was  exceed- 
ingly superstitious,  and  at  the  same  time  very 
devout;  she  always  said  a  short  prayer  and  made 
the  sign  of  the  cross  before  going  on  to  the  stage, 
and,  if  she  happened  to  be  conversing,  would  inter- 
rupt the  conversation  in  order  thus  to  prepare  herself 
for  her  work. 

She  was  very  sensitive,  especially  in  the  matter 
of  age.  One  evening,  when  AVC  were  playing  "The 
Magic  Flute,"  I  was  waiting  in  the  wings  to  go  on 
for  my  second  scene,  when  I  heard  somebody  near 
at  hand  sobbing  violently.  I  looked  about,  but 
could  not  discover  "the  soul  in  pain."  The  sobs 
continuing,  I  stepped  around  to  the  next  wing,  and 
there  discovered  lima  de  Murska  with  a  pocket- 
handkerchief  to  her  eyes,  sobbing  as  though  her 
heart  would  break.  I  tried  to  pacify  her,  and 
remonstrated  with  her  on  giving  way  so,  having  to 
go  on  immediately  for  the  great  song.  For  some 
time  I  could  not  induce  her  to  tell  me  the  cause  of 
her  grief;  at  last,  after  a  good  deal  of  persuasion, 
she  sobbed  out:  "It  is  a-all  that  na-na-nasty  X. 's 
f-f-fault!"  "Why,"  said  I,  "what  has  she  been 
doing  ?  "  "  Sh-sh-she's  been  tel-el-elling  un-untruths 
a-bou-bou-bout  me!"  "Well,  what  has  she  said?" 
"Oh!  oh!  oh!  the  w-wi-wicked  thi-i-ing  says  I-I- 
rm"  (with  an  explosion)  " fo-fo-forty-five !  "  She 
had  barely  time  to  dry  her  eyes  when  she  had  to  go 


248        REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

on  the  stage ;  her  grief,  however,  did  not  seem  to 
affect  her  powers,  for,  to  my  astonishment,  she  sang 
as  well  as  ever.  No  other  singer  whom  I  have 
heard,  except  Jenny  Lind,  sang  the  slow  movement 
of  "Non  paventar"  as  well  as  De  Murska;  but  she 
lacked  Jenny  Land's  firm  accent  and  brilliancy  of 
execution,  consequently  the  quick  movement  was 
not  on  a  par  with  the  other,  and  I  must  confess  I 
always  felt  somewhat  disappointed  with  it. 

The  tenor  engaged  to  take  Giuglini's  place, 
Emanuele  Carrion,  a  Spaniard  who  for  many  years 
enjoyed  a  high  reputation  in  Italy,  Russia,  Spain, 
etc.,  came  to  England  too  late  to  establish  himself 
as  a  favourite  with  the  public.  He  was.  a  genuine 
artist,  but  his  voice  had  lost  its  freshness,  and  age 
had  deprived  his  presence  of  what  comeliness  it  had 
possessed,  the  consequence  being  that  he  made  very 
little  impression  on  the  habitues  of  the  theatre.  M. 
Joulain,  the  tenor  who  had  been  on  the  tour  with 
us,  played  Edgardo  in  "Lucia,"  and  essayed  Raoul 
in  the  "Huguenots,"  both  unsuccessfully. 

I  played  three  new  important  parts  during  the 
season — Papageno  in  "II  Flauto  Magica,"  Creonte 
in  Cherubini's  "Medea,"  and  Pizarro  in  "Fidelio." 
Cipriani  Potter  told  me  many  times  I  was  the  only 
Pizarro  from  whom  he  heard  every  note  of  the 
"aria"  through  the  instrumentation.  I  suppose  it 
must  have  been  the  quality  of  my  voice,  as  Staudigl, 
whom  he  had  heard  in  the  part,  must  have  possessed 
a  more  powerful  organ.  I  believe  I  sang  the  music 


REMINISCENCES    OF   CHARLES   SANTLEY        249 

of  Creonte  well  enough,  but  I  know  that  my  repre- 
sentation of  the  Grecian  king  lacked  dignity.  I 
was  not  satisfied  with  either  my  dress  or  make-up, 
yet  I  had  nobody  but  myself  to  blame;  I  made  a 
considerable  improvement  when  the  opera  was  re- 
vived some  years  afterwards  at  Drury  Lane.  I  made 
a  success  in  the  part  of  Papageno;  a  celebrated  crit  it- 
told  me  that  I  sang  the  music  better  than  any  bari- 
tone he  had  ever  heard,  and  that,  although  I  did  not 
possess  the  comic  powers  of  Giorgio  lionconi,  there 
was  a  quiet  humour  in  my  acting  which  gave  him 
great  pleasure. 

I  had  nearly  fallen  a  victim  to  a  very  unpleasant 
trick  during  one  performance  of  this  opera.  The 
supper  which  Tamino  commands  for  the  hungry 
Papageno  consisted  of  pasteboard  imitations  of  good 
things,  but  the  cup  contained  real  wine,  a  small 
draught  of  which  I  found  refreshing  on  a  hot  night 
in  Jill}',  amid  the  dust  and  heat  of  the  stage.  On 
the  occasion  in  question  I  was  putting  the  cup  to 
my  lips,  when  I  heard  somebody  call  to  me  from  the 
wings;  I  felt  very  angry  at  the  interruption,  and 
was  just  about  to  swallow  the  wine,  when  I  heard 
an  anxious  call  not  to  drink.  Suspecting  something 
was  wrong,  I  pretended  to  drink,  and  deposited  the 
cup  on  the  table.  Immediately  after  the  scene  I 
made  inquiries  about  the  reason  for  the  caution  I 
received,  and  was  informed  that  as  each  night  the 
carpenters,  who  had  no  right  to  it,  finished  what 
remained  of  the  wine  before  the  property  men,  whose 


250        REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

perquisite  it  was,  could  lay  hold  of  the  cup,  the 
latter,  to  give  their  despoilers  a  lesson,  had  mingled 
castor-oil  with  my  drink ! 

At  the  first  performance  of  "The  Magic  Flute," 
Madame  Sinico  and  I  had  just  commenced  the  duet 
towards  the  end  of  the  opera,  when  lima  de  Murska 
ran  across  the  stage,  followed  by  one  or  two  gentle- 
men -in  evening  dress ;  immediately  an  alarm  of  fire 
\va-;  raised.  My  wife  and  two  daughters  were  in  a 
box  on  the  third'  tier,  which  caused  me  considerable 
alarm,  as  I  knew  there  was  no  possible  chance  of 
their  escaping.  Madame  Sinico  attempted  to  leave 
the  stage,  but  I  held  her  firmly  whilst  I  retired  to 
the  wings  to  make  inquiries.  The  stage-manager 
hurriedly  told  me  some  gauze  had  caught  fire,  but 
the  fire  had  been  extinguished,  and  there  was  no 
more  danger.  When  I  turned  round  again,  the 
audience  was  all  in  a  commotion;  the  occupants  of 
the  gallery  were  climbing  over  each  other's  heads, 
and  the  members  of  the  orchestra  were  escaping 
with  their  instruments.  I  saw  not  a  moment  was 
to  be  lost  to  save  many  from  being  trampled  to 
death,  so  I  rushed  to  the  footlights,  and  called  out 
with  more  energy  than  politeness :  "  There  is  no  fire ; 
it  is  put  out!  Sit  still;  we  are  going  on  with 
the  opera!"  I  then  made  a  sign  to  Arditi;  we 
recommenced  the  duet,  and  the  audience,  or  what 
was  left  of  them,  seeing  that  all  was  right,  calmly 
reseated  themselves  to  enjoy  the  remainder  of  the 
performance. 


REMINISCENCES    OF  CHARLES   SANTLEY        251 

"  Tannhauser  "  was  again  promised,  and  again  not 
produced. 

In  the  autumn  I  made  my  lirst  appearance  at  a 
Gloucester  festival.  I  sang  in  the  "Elijah,"  the 
lirst  part  of  "St.  Paul/'  part  of  the  "Messiah,"  and 
Mendelssohn's  "First  Walpurgis  Night,"  over  the 
rehearsal  of  which  T  came  to  grief  with  the  worthy 
conductor.  He  came  to  me  next  morning,  and  our 
little  difference  was  soon  made  up.  The  same  even- 
ing I  sang  "Oh  ruddier  than  the  cherry"  at  the 
miscellaneous  concert,  and  when  I  had  finished,  the 
doctor  laid  down  his  stick,  and,  clapping  me  on 
the  hack,  said,  "There,  I  would  forgive  you  any- 
thing for  that !"  It  is  very  singular,  I  have  always 
thought,  that  this  same  doctor  had  a  great  liking 
for  me,  and  yet  he  was  the  only  musical  man  with 
whom  I  remember  having  had  a  quarrel  which  was 
never  made  up.  I  cannot  help  expressing  my  regret, 
as  I  feel  I  was  much  more  to  blame  than  he  was. 
At  one  of  the  performances  in  the  cathedral  I  sang 
Gounod's  cantique  "Nazareth."  At  the  end  of  it, 
as  I  was  leaving  the  platform,  liowell,  the  principal 
double-bass,  remarked,  on  one  side,  "What  a  splen- 
did song,  Santley!"  the  doctor,  on  the  other  side, 
exclaimed,  "What  rubbish  !  " 

Of  the  autumnal  operatic  tour,  I  need  only  note 
that  I  essayed  the  part  of  Don  Giovanni  for  the  first 
time  at  Manchester  on  the  14th  of  September.  As 
usual,  I  had  one  rehearsal  the  morning  of  the  day  of 
performance.  Mario,  who  was  always  a  late  riser, 


252         REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SAXTLEY 

did  not  come  in  until  we  were  half-way  through  the 
rehearsal;  the  others,  who,  except  Tietjens,  had, 
like  myself,  -never  played  in  "Don  Giovanni" 
before,  were  all  present  throughout.  Mario,  who 
had  played  the  Don  himself,  gave  me  several  valu- 
able hints,  hut  of  course  my  performance  histrioni- 
cally fell  far  short  of  the  ideal  dissipated  liidalyo. 
Had  I  been  less  diffident,  and  not  feared  making 
mistakes,  I  should  have  succeeded  better.  Ambro- 
getti  is  always  quoted  as  the  model  Don  Giovanni, 
and  by  people  who  could  never  by  any  possible 
chance  have  seen  him.  Strange  to  say,  but  a  few 
days  ago  (this  is  the  22nd  of  October,  1891)  I  read  a 
criticism  in  an  old  paper  (the  Mirror,  or  some  such 
name)  on  Ambrogettrs  Don,  in  which  the  writer 
compared  him  most  unfavourably  with  the  elder 
Garcia,  and  found  him  lacking  in  all  the  necessary 
qualirications  for  the  proper  representation  of  the 
character.  It  is,  without  doubt,  a  difficult  part  to 
play  a  thoroughly  unscrupulous  blackguard  in  the 
garb  of  a  polished  gentleman.  I  never  saw  it  well 
played,  nor  do  I  think  I  ever  arrived  at  playing  it  in 
such  a  way  as  would  have  satisfied  me  could  I  have 
witnessed  my  own  performance,  though  in  after- 
years  I  was  many  times  highly  complimented  in 
private  on  it.  How  often  I  wished  I  had  accepted 
Madame  Carvalho's  offer,  and  played  it  at  the 
Lyrique  in  Paris ;  with  the  advantages  which  would 
there  have  been  at  my  disposal  I  believe  I  should 
have  succeeded  in  laying  the  ghost  of  Ambrogetti. 


KEMIXISCF.A'CES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLF.Y        253 

I    played    it    throughout    the    tour,    and    again    in 
London  during  the  short  season  in  October. 

During  this  short  season  in  London  we  produced 
"Der  Freyschiitz,"'  in  which  I  played  Caspar,  a  pail 
not  musically  adapted  to  my  voice,  but  a  part  I  had 
a  1  \vays  teen  enamoured  of.  I  succeeded  better  in 
tins  than  in  "Don  Giovanni,"  as  all  except  Tietjens 
were  new  to  the  work,  and  I  had  sufficient  re- 
hearsals to  carry  out  my  ideas.  The  "incantation 
scene"  was  splendid  —  another  of  Telbin's  fine 
efforts.  He  introduced  some  very  tall  skeletons, 
which  made  a  great  effect.  I  had  no  idea  how  they 
were  arranged,  until  one  evening  I  heard  a  great 
laugh  as  I  was  intent  on  casting  the  bullets.  I 
knew  something  ludicrous  had  happened,  but  I  was 
too  intent  on  my  work  to  examine  into  the  nature  of 
the  circumstances ;  I  really  enjoyed  myself  so  much 
in  that  scene  that  I  was  lost  to  all  idea  of  its  being 
a  mere  representation.  When  the  cloth  fell  for  the 
next  scene  I  then  discovered  the  cause  of  the  merri- 
ment —  the  drapery  had  fallen  from  one  of  the  skele- 
tons, and  exposed  its  construction;  simple  enough 
—  a  man  holding  a  mop-handle,  on  which  was  fixed 
a  skull.  I  succeeded  in  having  my  way  about  the 
working  of  the  incantation,  which  was  performed  in 
dead  silence,  without  the  usual  accompaniment  of 
clanking  chains,  etc.  I  believe  the  effect  must  have 
satisfied  the  audience,  for  except  on  the  occasion 
above  referred  to,  a  pin  might  have  been  heard  to 
drop  in  the  house  during  the  entire  scene. 


254         REMINISCENCES    OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

Soon  after  this  series  of  performances  concluded 
I  started  for  Milan  to  fulfil  my  engagement  at  the 
Scala.  On  my  way,  I  remained  a  few  days  in  Paris 
in  order  to  hear  "  L'Africaine,"  in  which  I  was  to 
play  Nelusko,  and  of  course  pay  a  visit  to  the  The- 
atre Fran9ais,  which  gave  me  much  greater  pleasure. 
I  had  letters  of  introduction  to  several  musical  and 
other  influential  people  in  Milan,  three  of  which  I 
delivered,  and  this  I  regretted  having  done,  for  they 
were  the  cause  of  no  little  persecution  for  loans, 
gifts,  etc.  One  gentleman  returned  my  call  the  day 
I  had  my  first  quarter's  money  handed  me;  the  cash 
was  lying  on  the  table  when  he  entered  my  apart- 
ment. It  evidently  proved  too  great  a  temptation  to 
see  so  many  francs  lying  idle,  so  after  a  little  con- 
versation he  called  me  out  of  the  room,  and  told  me 
a  long  tale  of  woe  which  500  francs  would  turn  to 
gladness ;  would  I  lend  him  that  sum  ?  I  could  not 
say  I  was  not  in  possession  of  so  much,  as  he  had 
seen  the  money.  After  some  demur  I  handed  him 
500  francs,  on  the  understanding  that  they  were  to 
be  refunded  before  the  end  of  the  season.  I  left 
Milan  without  receiving  back  a  penny  of  the  loan, 
but  a  friend,  who  undertook  to  pursue  him,  managed 
to  screw  200  francs  out  of  him.  But  I  had  no  need 
of  letters  of  introduction  to  make  the  acquaintance 
of  similar  gentry,  all  bent  on  plunder.  I  had  jour- 
nalists, or  people  who  called  themselves  such,  who 
wanted  subscriptions  to  papers  I  had  never  heard  of, 
and  did  not  wish  to  see ;  one  insolent  fellow  insisted 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY        255 

upon  being  paid  a  year's  subscription  to  a  journal 
because  I  had  taken  in  three  numbers  and  kept 
them.  I  told  him  he  might  take  them  away  if  he 
could  find  them  in  the  waste-paper  basket,  where 
they  must  have  been  deposited,  as  I  never  opened 
anything  of  that  kind.  He  then  began  to  use  rude 
language,  which  I  put  an  end  to  by  informing  him 
that  if  he  did  not  quit  my  room  on  the  instant  he 
would  find  himself  landed  in  the  hall  without  the 
trouble  of  walking  down  the  stairs.  He  actually 
then  tried  humble-pie,  but  I  escorted  him  to  the 
door,  and  dismissed  him  with  a  caution.  Surely 
artists  themselves  are  to  blame  that  such  a  nuisance 
has  to  be  endured. 

The  opening  opera  was  "Norma,"  with  Madame 
Fried  and  a  German  tenor  named  Steger,  but  I  did 
not  hear  it.  This  was  succeeded  by  Halevy's  "  La 
Juive,''  in  which  also  there  is  no  baritone  part. 
I  went  in  one  evening  and  heard  the  first  act.  after 
which  I  left,  and  did  not  return.  The  managers 
began  to  think  it  was  time  to  get  an  opera  ready  in 
which  Fricci  and  Steger  would  not  be  required,  as 
they  might  either  of  them  be  unable  to  sing  any 
night,  playing  five  times  a  week  in  such  heavy 
operas,  consequently  I  and  the  other  tenor,  both  of 
us  having  a  right  to  choose  our  opera,  were  con- 
sulted, and  to  my  great  annoyance  he  insisted  upon 
the  "Trovatore."'  He  being  the  tenor,  there  was 
nothing  for  it  but  to  submit,  which  I  did,  not  ver}r 
graciously,  I  confess.  Besides  niy  own  dislike  to 


256        REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

appearing  in  it,  I  heard  constant  rumours  that  the 
subscribers  were  not  at  all  disposed  to  accept  an 
opera  which  had  been  played  to  death.  However, 
the  managers  were  satisfied,  and  we  immediately  set 
to  work  to  rehearse.  We  had  a  pianoforte  rehearsal 
every  day  for  a  fortnight,  then  three  full  rehearsals 
with  orchestra  and  chorus  on  the  stage,  and  lastly 
a  general  rehearsal  in  costume,  at  which  what  they 
were  pleased  to  call  the  "  Artistic  Commission " 
presided.  We  had,  besides,  a  rehearsal  for  the  stage 
business  with  the  stage-manager,  Piave,  the  author 
of  several  of  Verdi's  librettos,  including  that  of  the 
"Trovatore."  I  was  highly  amused,  for  the  old 
gentleman  wandered  about  the  dark  stage  with  a 
coil  of  wax  taper  directing  us;  he  had  evidently 
forgotten  all  about  his  own  work.  He  told  me  to 
come  on  on  the  wrong  side  for  my  first  entrance,  and 
was  highly  indignant-  when  I  suggested  he  was 
mistaken,  but  he  soon  afterwards  begged  my  pardon 
when  he  found  this  mistake  led  to  a  muddle.  The 
prima  donna  was  a  very  good  artist,  and  had  been  a 
great  favourite  at  the  Scala;  the  contralto,  a  French- 
woman, had  never  sung  in  Italy,  and,  judging  from 
her  pronunciation,  I  should  say  knew  very  little 
about  Italian ;  Bagagiolo  was  the  bass.  I  thought 
it  would  turn  out  a  very  fair  performance,  but  the 
audience  had  determined  otherwise.  The  tenor  they 
hissed  from  his  first  note  to  his  last —  very  unjustly, 
I  think;  the  prima  donna  came  off  almost  as  badly; 
the  contralto  they  would  not  listen  to,  and  even  the 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  S ANT  LEY       257 

bell  used  in  the  last  act  in  the  tower  scene  received 
a  volley  of  hisses  for  tolling  out  of  tune.  When  I 
went  on  in  the  second  act  to  sing  the  "air,"  my  legs 
trembled  so  I  could  scarcely  stand.  I  received  some 
encouragement  in  the  middle  of  the  song,  as  they 
applauded  the  cadence ;  but  I  was  obliged  to  cut  my 
final  cadence  short,  being  so  nervous  that  I  had  not 
sufficient  breath  to  complete  it.  To  my  great  sur- 
prise and  joy,  I  received  immense  applause;  I  was 
called  to  the  footlights  four  or  five  times,  and  there 
was  a  general  call  for  an  encore,  which  I  was  sensi- 
ble  enough  to  resist.  The  remainder  of  the  opera 
gave  me  no  trouble.  I  received  a  fair  share  of 
applause  after  each  of  my  phrases  in  the  duet,  and 
I  was  quite  content.  I  called  in  to  say  good-night 
to  the  prima  donna  before  I  went  up  to  my  dressing- 
room,  and  found  the  tenor  there  condoling  with  her. 
I  felt  exceedingly  sorry  for  them,  for  they  had 
neither  of  them  merited  the  treatment  they  received. 
The  opera,  of  course,  could  not  be  repeated;  it 
was  then  a  question  what  could  be  mounted  to 
replace  it.  Many  works  were  suggested,  and  at  last 
"II  Templario,"  a  weak  opera  by  Nicolai,  was 
chosen.  The  tenor  of  the  "Trovatore"  was  "pro- 
tested,"1 and  left  Milan.  For  the  part  of  Ivanhoe  a 
new  one  was  engaged ;  a  fair  singer  with  a  very 
small  voice.  To  the  mezzo-soprano  who  at  Barce- 
lona took  the  part  of  Fides  in  "II  Profeta"  was 
assigned  the  role  of  Rebecca.  A  small  English  lady 
played  Rowena,  Bagagiolo  Cedric,  and  I  Brian  the 
1  Protest ed  iiu-iins  lie  received  his  conge. 


258        REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  S ANT  LEY 

Templar.  The  music  I  found  old-fashioned  and 
flimsy;  from  that  point  of  view  the  part  did  not 
interest  me,  but  I  thought  I  could  do  something 
with  it  dramatically,  and  so  make  up  for  the  lack  of 
musical  interest.  Mazzucato  superintended  the  re- 
hearsals. He  was  a  very  talented  man,  very  cour- 
teous, but  very  stiff  and  .cold  in  his  demeanour, 
never  condescending  to  use  the  familiar  "  thou " 
with  the  artists  during  rehearsals.  I  do  not  know 
how  many  rehearsals  we  had,  but  I  was  thoroughly 
saturated  with  the  music  long  before  we  got  through 
those  in  the  green-room.  We  had  several  on 
the  stage  with  full  orchestra,  and  with  a  multi- 
plicity of  directors  —  Cavallini  directing  the  or- 
chestra with  his  fiddlestick,  and  taking  the  time 
from  Mazzucato,  who,  seated  in  front  of  the  stage, 
beat  the  time  with  his  hand,  whilst  the  chorus- 
master  stood  in  front  of  his  regiment  also  beating 
time.  Altercations  between  the  conductor  and  the 
principal  instruments  were  not  uncommon.  I  re- 
member one  which  amused  me  veiy  much.  Caval- 
lini turned  to  the  principal  'cello  and  bass,  and 
remarked  that  a  certain  B  ought  to  be  natural,  not 
flat;  the  professors  replied  he  was  mistaken,  upon 
which  a  long  argument  ensued,  ending  in  the 
double-bass  requesting  the  conductor  to  "shut  up," 
as  he  did  not  know  what  he  was  talking  about. 
Rebecca  had  never  sung  out  at  rehearsals,  so  nobody 
knew  what  her  capabilities  were ;  on  the  stage  with 
the  orchestra  she  was  compelled  to  sing  out,  and 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY       259 

then  doubts  began  to  be  expressed  about  the  proba- 
bility of  her  success.  At  the  general  rehearsal  the 
"Artistic  Commission"  did  not  approve,  and  to  save 
a  "protest"  she  \vas  requested  to  resign  on  the  plea 
of  ill-health.  I  thought  we  should  have  had  all  our 
trouble  for  nothing,  but  the  day  following  a  lady 
was  found  who  undertook  to  be  ready  with  the  part 
in  a  few  days.  Poor  girl,  she  little  knexv  what  she 
was  undertaking!  The  opera  was  played,  and 
Rebecca  was  a  failure.  The  disapprobation  of  the 
public  was  displayed  in  a  most  brutal  manner,  and 
again  I  thought  we  had  laboured  in  vain:  but  the 
prima  donna  of  the  "  Trovatore "  was  induced  to 
undertake  the  part,  and  with  her  x\e  managed  six  or 
seven  performances,  the  greater  part  being  on  nights 
assigned  to  certain  charitable  benefits. 

A  proposal  was  then  made  that  the  "  Favorita " 
should  be  mounted,  for  which  a  new  prima  donna 
was  to  be  engaged.  I  made  some  demur,  as  I  never 
liked  the  part  of  the  King,  and  when  I  learned  who 
were  to  be  my  companions,  I  declined.  The  pail 
which  I  had  looked  forward  to,  Xelusko,  through 
some  intrigue,  had  been  assigned  to  another  artist. 
Altogether  the  season  had  been  a  wretched  one  for 
me ;  singing  so  seldom,  I  had  no  chance  of  making 
way  with  the  public,  and  now  that  the  part  in  which 
I  hoped  to  gain  their  sympathy  was  taken  away  from 
me,  I  longed  to  get  away.  Luckily,  on  the  night 
of  the  last  performance  but  one  of  the  "  Templario  " 
the  aq-eiit  who  made  my  engagement  arrived  in 


260        REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

Milan,  and  came  to  see  me  in  my  dressing-room.  I 
stated  my  troubles  to  him,  and  asked  him  to  try  and 
break  my  engagement,  that  I  might  get  back  to 
England.  He  seemed  unwilling  to  undertake  the 
job,  but  an  offer  of  double  commission  on  iny  salary 
turned  the  scale,  and  before  the  termination  of  the 
performance  he  brought  me  the  welcome  news  that 
I  was  free  after  one  other  performance  of  the  "  Tem- 
plario."  The  last  performance  was  given  for  the 
benefit  of  a  charitable  institution ;  between  the 
second  and  third  acts  they  played  a  ballet  which 
lasted  about  an  hour  and  a  quarter,  and  between  the 
third  and  fourth  acts  another  which  lasted  three- 
quarters  of  an  hour.  I  left  Milan  the  day  on  which 
"  L' Africaine "  was  produced,  and  I  afterwards 
learned  that  all  the  leading  baritone  numbers  had 
to  be  omitted,  and  I  confess  I  was  spiteful  enough 
to  be  very  glad  of  it.  I  expected  on  my  return  to 
join  Mapleson's  operatic  tour  at  Dublin,  but  our 
ideas  of  terms  differed  so  much  I  would  not  accept 
the  engagement. 


CHAPTER   XVII 

Season  of  1866  —  Madame  Grisi  at  Her  Majesty's  —  A  Gluck  Per- 
formance at  Dudley  House  —  Hoel  leaps  over  Coventino :  his 
Life  saved  by  a  Goat  —  ••  Krnani  "  —  Season  of  1867  —  Puffs 
and  Promises  —  First  Appearance  of  Mdlle.  Christine  Xilsson 
—  "La  Forza  del  Destine"  produced  under  Difficulties  — 
Mongini  draws  Blood —  I  sing  with  Jenny  Lind  in  "Ruth"  — 
Her  Majesty's  Theatre  destroyed  by  Fire. 

MADAME  Gmsr  was  announced  to  appear  in  a 
limited  number  of  performances  at  Her  Majesty's 
Theatre  during  the  season  of  1866,  and  as  an  addi- 
tional attraction.  Mile.  Tietjens  was  announced  to 
take  part  in  them,  playing  Adalgisa  in  "Xorma," 
and  Donna  Elvira  in  "Don  Giovanni,"  etc.  The 
only  appearance  of  Madame  Grisi  was  in  "Lucrezia 
Borgia.''  I  had  been  singing  at  the  Crystal  Palace 
concert  in  the  afternoon,  and  after  dining  there  I 
went  up  to  the  theatre  to  see  a  little  of  the  perform- 
ance. I  felt  very  sorry  for  Grisi  that  she  had  been 
induced  to  appear  again;  it  was  a  sad  sight  for  any- 
one who  had  known  her  in  her  prime,  and  even  long 
past  it.  I  met  her  behind  the  scenes,  and  she 
upbraided  me  with  having  forsaken  her,  as  she 
particularly  wished  me  to  play  the  Duke.  I  do  not 
know  why  she  should  have  been  so  desirous  of  my 
assistance,  as  Gassier  played  and  sang  it  exceedingly 

261 


262        REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

well;  probably  she  fancied  I  would  be  more  careful 
about  seconding  her.  Mongini  was  engaged  as  first 
tenor;  he  certainly  had  a  voice,  but  it  never  had  any 
effect  on  me;  he  never  produced  such  a  startling 
effect  with  his  high  notes  as  Tamberlik  used  with 
the  C  sharp  in  the  duet  in  "Otello";  and,  oddly 
enough,  when  the  high  notes  were  really  wanted 
they  did  not  seem  willing  to  come  forth.  For 
instance,  in  the  great  scene  in  "Lucia,"  the  high 
B  flat  was  always  half  stifled.  He  was  an  indifferent 
singer  and  actor,  but  his  fine  manly  presence  and 
robust  voice  gained  him  the  sympathy  of  those  who 
know  nothing  of,  and  are  not  interested  in,  artistic 
excellence  —  the  bulk  of  an  audience.  Mr.  Tom 
Hohler  made  his  first  appearance  in  "I  Puritani," 
and  sang  a  few  times  during  the  remainder  of  the 
season. 

Another  tenor,  a  M.  Arvin,  Italianized  into 
Arvini,  came  out  in  "II  Trovatore,"  and  went  in 
again  immediately.  "  La  Donna  del  Lago  "  (Ros- 
sini) and  "La  Vestale  "  (Spontini)  were  both  prom- 
ised, but  not  given.  "  Ifigenia  in  Tauride "  was 
promised  and  performed  with  Tietjens  as  Ifigenia, 
Gardoni  as  Pilade,  Santley  as  Oreste,  and  Gassier 
as  Thoas.  I  mentioned  that  I  had  already  sung  in 
some  performances  of  this  opera  at  Charles  Halld's 
concerts  in  Manchester.  A  great  deal  of  enthusi- 
asm, which,  however,  did  not  last  very  long,  had 
been  got  up  about  Gluck  at  the  time  Halle  performed 
it  in  Manchester,  in  1860  and  1861,  in  consequence 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CIIAKI.LS  SANTLEY        263 

of  which  the  Earl  of  Dudley,  then  Lord  Ward,  I 
believe,  arranged  to  have  two  performances  at  his 
residence  in  Park  Lane,  for  which  Tietjens,  Reeves, 
Belletti  and  I  were  engaged.  The  accompaniments 
were  played  on  the  pianoforte  by  Ganz,  and  by  a 
quintet  of  strings,  with  Carrodus  as  leader.  At 
the  rehearsals  Lord  AYard  requested  Belletti  to  pre- 
sent me  to  him.  He  said  he  had  not  yet  had  the 
pleasure  of  hearing  me,  although  he  had  heard  a  great 
deal  about  me,  as  he  always  looked  to  the  artists  of 
the  Italian  opera  for  his  musical  entertainments. 
On  the  evening  of  the  performance  I  had  to  sing  at 
Hanover  Square  Rooms  first.  I  arrived  about  ten 
o'clock,  but  the  performance  was  delayed  awaiting 
the  arrival  of  some  royal  or  otherwise  important 
guest.  AVe  commenced  the  opera  at  twenty  minutes 
past  midnight;  I  was  already  beginning  to  feel 
exhausted,  having  dined  at  3.30;  however,  I  was  in 
good  form,  and  got  through  the  most  arduous  scene, 
on  which  I  was  inwardly  congratulating  myself, 
when  his  lordship  stepped  up  and  begged  of  me  (to 
my  horror)  to  repeat  it.  I  tried  to  excuse  myself, 
but  in  the  end  I  was  obliged  to  give  in.  As  soon 
as  I  could,  I  got  away  without  visiting  the  supper- 
room,  and  I  could  not  find  a  morsel  to  eat  when  I 
arrived  at  home.  I  was  in  a  measure  repaid,  for  a 
few  days  after,  when  Halle  called  upon  me  to  pay 
me  for  my  services,  he  brought  a  message  from  Lord 
AVard  to  the  effect  that,  as  I  had  done  more  work 
than  anv  other  of  the  artists,  he  did  not  see  why  I 


264        REMINISCENCES   OF   CHARLES   SANTLEY 

should  not  receive  at  least  the  same  compensation 
(my  terms  were  fifteen  guineas,  the  others'  twenty- 
five),  and  he  begged  of  me  to  accept  the  additional 
ten  guineas,  with  his  earnest  thanks  for  my  admira- 
ble performance. 

The  opera  was  fairly  well  performed  at  Her 
Majesty's;  at  any  rate,  we  all  did  our  best,  but  it 
did  not  prove  attractive,  and  was  only  played  three 
nights.  There  are  fine  bits  in  it,  but  to  me  Gluck's 
music  is  tedious ;  and,  judging  from  experience,  the 
public  is  much  of  my  opinion.  An  exception  may 
be  made  in  favour  of  "Orfeo,"'  which,  with  a  highly- 
talented  artist  in  the  principal  character,  proved 
successful  lately  at  Covent  Garden.  Halle  revived 
"  Ifigenia  "  a  few  years  ago  at  his  Manchester  con- 
certs, but  the  performance  fell  perfectly  flat. 

"  Dinorah "  was  produced  for  lima  de  Murska, 
with  Gardoni  as  Corentino  and  I  as  Hoel;  it  was  a 
great  success,  and  we  played  it  several  nights  to 
crowded  houses.  It  is  a  part  which  dramatically 
suited  Murska  perfectly  and  musically,  except  the 
"Shadow  song,"  where  her  execution  was  very 
ragged,  although  the  public  appeared  perfect  Iv 
satisfied.  I  was  within  an  ace  of  killing  her  dur- 
ing one  of  the  performances.  She  insisted  upon 
crossing  the  bridge  and  doing  the  fall,  when  it 
breaks,  herself,  instead  of  having  a  double,  as  I  had 
always  seen  it  done  before,  and  in  consequence  I 
was  obliged  to  jump  in  to  save  her  myself.  There . 
were  some  mattresses  on  the  stage  to  prevent  break- 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  S A  XT  LEY        265 

ing  bones.  On  the  evening  in  question  she  had  not 
fallen  in  the  usual  place ;  had  I  made  my  usual 
jump,  she  would  have  come  to  an  untimely  end  to 
a  dead  certainty ;  but  fortunately  I  saw  her  danger, 
and  made,  I  believe,  the  biggest  jump  (except  once 
when  I  was  pursued  by  a  horse)  that  I  ever  made  in 
my  life,  and  cleared  her.  She  was  fearfully  alarmed, 
and  it  took  me  some  little  time  to  recover  the  shock. 
On  the  first  night  or  two  I  had  enough  to  attend 
to,  without  paying  much  attention  to  my  fellow- 
artists,  except  in  so  far  as  the  work  required;  but 
when  I  had  time  to  observe  minor  particulars,  I 
noticed  some  change  in  De  Murska's  attire  in  the 
last  act.  She  fell  into  the  water  with  a  plain  band 
round  her  waist,  and  her  hair  adorned  solely  by  its 
natural  gloss;  when  I  carried  her  on  the  stage,  after 
rescuing  her  from  a  watery  grave,  I  found  her  waist 
was  encircled  by  a  gold  or  gilt  /.one,  and  her  bail- 
was  bright  with  gold  powder.  I  was  so  amused 
and  astonished  that  I  forgot  all  alxvut  the  romance 
until  the  ophicleide  (I  could  never  understand  why 
Meyerk'er  gave  those  few  notes  to  that  instrument) 
wakened  me  from  my  reverie.  I  was  very  fond  of 
the  part  of  Hoel,  but  I  always  wished  the  few  pieces 
stuck  in  at  the  commencement  of  the  third  act  had 
been  left  out:  they  retard  the  <h'»ouei»t'tit,  when, 
after  the  bustle  of  the  storm  scene,  the  audience  art- 
all  anxious  to  know  the  fate  of  the  lovers  —  and  it 
left  time  for  my  voice  and  enthusiasm  to  cool.  I 
strove  hard  to  have  them  eliminated,  but  manager 


266        REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

and  conductor  were  afraid  the  public  would  not  have 
enough  for  their  money,  so  there  was  nothing  for  it 
but  patience.  The  goat  was  always  a  great  nui- 
sance; it  never  would  do  what  was  required  of  it, 
and  was  always  getting  in  the  way.  According  to 
the  attendant  at  Covent  Garden,  when  I  was  playing 
Hoel  in  1859,  the  poor  animal  was  the  means  of 
saving  me  from  a  serious  accident.  At  the  begin- 
ning of  the  second  act  I  used  to  cross  the  bridge 
and  wait  at  the  other  end  until  I  made  my  second 
entrance.  The  goat  and  attendant  also  took  up 
their  quarters  at  the  end  of  the  rostrum,  and  I  gen- 
erally filled  up  the  time  with  a  little  conversation 
with  the  latter.  One  night  he  told  me  that,  had  it 
not  been  for  his  crossing  the  bridge  as  he  did  each 
night  by  way  of  a  little  drill  for  the  goat,  I  would 
certainly  have  broken  my  neck,  as  he  found  the  bolt 
which  kept  up  the  bridge  had  been  inadvertently 
left  out,  and  he  and  the  goat  had  very  nearly  been 
precipitated  on  to  the  stage.  I  rewarded  him  for 
his  having  prevented  a  serious  accident,  after  which 
it  was  extraordinary  the  number  of  perils  I  escaped, 
saved,  according  to  his  account,  through  his  instru- 
mentality. 

"Ernani,"  which  had  not  been  played  for  many 
years,  was  revived,  with  Tietjens,  Tasca,  Gassier, 
and  myself.  Carlo  Quinto  is  a  part  I  always 
enjoyed;  it  is  full  of  singing.  However,  it  pre- 
sents one  difficulty,  which  I  have  seldom  heard  over- 
come. The  air  "Lo  vedremo  o  veglio  audace,"  a 


K7-:.}fI.\'ISCE.\TCES   OF  CHARLES   SAXTLEY        267 

very  rugged  declamatory  address  to  old  Silva,  is 
succeeded  by  a  c<il«l?tta,  all  grace  and  tenderness, 
addressed  to  Elvira.  As  a  rule  this  air  is  bellowed, 
and  consequently  the  voice  cannot  sustain  the  soft 
delieate  melody  which  comes  almost  immediately 
after  it.  It  is  a  question  of  accent:  it'  properly 
declaimed,  it  (the  air)  requires  no  extraordinary 
expenditure  of  force,  which  may  then  be  preserved 
for  the  more  trying,  because  much  more  sustained, 
cabah'tta.  and  the  singer  (provided  the  part  suits  his 
voice)  who  depends  on  art  rather  than  on  physical 
strength  will  suffer  no  distress  in  the  execution  of 
this — one  of  the  most  trying  scenes  I  know  in 
Italian  opera. 

Mo/art's  "II  Seraglio"  was  produced,  with  Tiet- 
jens.  Sinico,  Dr.  Gnnz.  Foil,  and  Hokitansky  in  the 
principal  parts  :  it  was  played  three  or  four  times  at 
most.  I  did  not  see  it.  and  cannot  say  anything 
about  the  performance. 

After  the  holidays  came  Worcester  festival,  of 
which  there  is  nothing  to  say.  followed  at  the  end 
of  October  by  Norwich  festival,  the  only  new 
feature  of  any  importance  in  which  was  Benedict's 
cantata  "St.  Cecilia."  libretto  by  H.  F.  Chorley. 
Costu's  "Naaman"  was  given,  conducted  by  the 
composer,  the  Prince  and  Princess  of  Wales  being 
present  at  the  performance.  The  rest  of  the  autumn 
and  winter  was  tilled  up  with  the  operatic  and  con- 
cert tours,  and  various  concerts  between  the  two. 
Monday  pops,  Sacred  Harmonic,  etc.,  and  a  couple 


268         REMINISCENCES    OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

of  weeks  at  Her  Majesty's  Theatre  in  November, 
during  which  I  played  Leporello  in  "Don  Gio- 
vanni,'' according  to  accounts,  with  great  success. 
I  liked  playing  the  part  very  much,  though  the 
music  is  much  too  low  for  me  in  the  concerted  parts. 

The  particulars  of  the  season  of  both  Italian 
operas  were  ahvays  announced  with  a  great  flourish 
of  trumpets,  but  the  season  of  1867  at  Her  Majesty's 
was  heralded  by  a  perfect  symphony  in  several  move- 
ments for  those  instruments.  The  first  movement 
gave  a  summary  of  all  the  wonders  which  had  been 
produced  from  the  foundation  of  the  Italian  opera, 
and  the  wonderful  people  who  had  executed  them, 
terminating  with  a  confident  assertion  by  Mr. 
Mapleson  ""that  in  no  other  house  have  new  works 
and  revivals  been  produced  in  such  rapid  succession, 
or  with  such  complete  efficiency  as  at  Her  Majesty's 
Theatre";  and  a  kind  of  coda,  intimating  the  prin- 
cipal works  to  be  produced.  The  second  movement 
consisted  of  puffs  of  the  principal  artists,  the  third 
of  the  casts  of  the  different  operas,  and  the  fourth 
was  a  medley  of  stage  personnel,  repertoire,  and  rates 
of  subscription.  As  usual,  a  great  many  promises 
were  not  performed,  e.g.,  "Guglielmo  Tell,"  "La 
Vestale,"  and  "La  Donna  del  Lago";  "Mirella," 
with  Christine  Nilsson,  also  fell  under  this  category  : 
but  "  La  Forza  del  Destino "  (promised  so  many 
times)  and  "  I  Lombardi  "  were  produced,  and  "  Fal- 
staff  "  revived. 

The  great  theme  of  the  second  movement  of  the 


REMINISCENCES  OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY        269 

brazen  symphony  was  the  engagement  of  Mile. 
Christine  Nilsson.  "It  is  with  the  highest  satis- 
faction," Mr.  Maples*  m  announces,  he  has  secured 
the  services  of  Mile.  Christine  Nilsson,  etc.  "This 
young  Swedish  singer,  upon  whom  it  has  been  said 
by  connoisseurs  the  mantle  of  Jenny  Lind  has 
fallen,  will  come,''  etc.  She  wore  a  mantle  hand- 
somely trimmed  and  lined,  but  it  was  not  Jenny 
Land's !  She  made  her  first  appearance  on  the  8th  of 
June  in  the  "Traviata,"  Mongini  playing  Alfredo, 
and  I  old  Germont.  She  was  charming  to  behold, 
and  sang  charmingly,  and  made  an  immense  success. 

"  I  Lombard!  "  was  performed  on  the  30th  of  April, 
the  second  night  of  the  season;  it  is  one  of  Verdi's 
earlier  operas.  It  abounds  in  melody,  but  the  noisy 
scoring  imparts  a  vulgar  tone  to  many  numbers 
which  would  otherwise  stand  out  in  bold  and  rugged 
relief.  "I  Lombard!"  is  certainly  not  a  favourite 
opera  of  mine,  nor  did  I  find  Pagan o  a  very  interest- 
ing part  generally;  but  there  is  one  recitative  and 
air,  "Ma  quando  un'suon  terribile,"  which  is  worthy 
of  any  singer's  attention.  It  made  such  an  effect 
on  the  audience  that  on  the  first  night  I  received  a 
great  round  of  applause  after  a  fine  phrase  which 
occurs  in  the  middle  of  it.  and  a  regular  ovation  at 
the  end. 

"Falstaff"  was  revived  in  May,  the  title  role 
being  played  by  Rokitansky,  who  was  not  an  im- 
provement on  Junca,  spite  of  possessing  a  much 
more  sonorous  organ.  Slender  was  played  by 


270        REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

Charles  Lyall  —  his  first  season  at  the  Italian  opera 
—  an  immense  improvement  on  his  predecessor.  It 
was  a  piece  of  genuine  comedy;  Gassier  always 
called  him  the  English  Saintefoy.  For  the  benefit 
of  those  who  may  not  have  heard  Saintefoy,  or  do 
not  remember  him,  I  may  as  well  mention  that  he 
was  comic  tenor  at  the  Ope'ra  Comique  for  many 
years,  one  of  his  last  creations  being  the  part  of 
Corentin  in  "Dinorah." 

On  Saturday,  the  22nd  of  June,  "La  Forza  del 
Destine "  was  produced.  We  had  a  great  deal  of 
rehearsing,  but  unfortunately  we  had  lost  our  clever 
old  stage-manager  Billy  West,  and  his  successor  had 
never  had  any  experience,  consequently  we  all  went 
our  own  way,  the  result  being,  to  say  the  least  of  it, 
unsatisfactory.  After  the  general  rehearsal  it  was 
found  impossible  to  set  the  second  scene  (Scene  5  of 
the  libretto)  of  the  second  act  unless  the  cloth  of  the 
back  of  Scene  1  was  removed  a  couple  of  wings  nearer 
the  footlights,  so  that  at  the  first  performance  we  all 
had  to  scramble  for  room.  In  addition  to  this,  on 
the  very  day  of  performance  I  received  notice  that 
the  words  of  the  grace  before  the  supper  must  be 
altered  or  omitted  by  order  of  the  licenser  of  plays ; 
yet,  spite  of  these  contretemps,  which  were  of  them- 
selves sufficient  to  upset  those  concerned  without  the 
anxiety  of  a  first  night,  we  got  through  creditably 
enough.  After  many  and  many  such  experiences  of 
the  getting  up  and  rehearsing  of  operas  in  which  I 
have  been  engaged,  my  only  wonder  is  that  we  got 


REJflA'fSCEXCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY        271 

through  some  of  them  at  all ;  and  I  can  only  conclude 
that  we  must  be  an  extraordinary  race  of  people  to 
perform  such  miracles  —  producing  attractive  per- 
formances by  means  of  such  wretched  rehearsals. 

There  is  some  beautiful  music  in  "La  Forza,"  but, 
judging  from  the  only  performance  I  ever  saw  at  the 
Teatro  Dal  Verme,  in  Milan,  some  years  ago,  with 
a  very  good  cast  and  very  well  put  on  the  stage,  I 
should  say  on  the  whole  it  is  tiresome.  I  was  in 
Paris  for  a  few  days  before  the  opening  of  our 
season.  At  Arditi's  request  I  called  on  Verdi  to 
ask  him  if  he  would  point  out  to  me  any  particular 
effects  he  wished  brought  out  in  my  part.  He 
received  me  very  coldly,  and  said  as  lie  had  gone 
through  the  opera  with  Arditi,  he  did  not  see  any 
reason  why  he  should  go  through  it  with  me.  I 
was  a  little  astonished  at  his  brusque  manner,  and 
excused  myself  the  best  way  I  could,  and  was  retir- 
ing, when  he  called  me  back  and  told  me  if  I  liked 
to  call  again  on  another  day.  appointing  it  himself 
and  the  hour,  he  would  consider  about  what  he 
could  do.  I  returned  on  the  day.  when  he  informed 
me  he  was  very  busy  at  the  opera  with  the  revival 
of  "Les  Vepres  Sieiliennes,"  and  had  no  piano  in 
his  rooms,  so  he  could  net  assist  me  in  any  way.  I 
told  him  not  to  disturb  himself,  and  that  I  was  quite 
satisfied  with  having  had  the  honour  of  making  his 
acquaintance,  on  which  he  bowed  me  out.  I  confess 
I  was  a  little  hurt,  as  I  presented  myself,  and  made 
my  request  very  modestly.  I  determined,  however, 


272         REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SAXTLEY 

to  do  my  best  with  my  part,  and  I  worked  more  than 
ordinarily  at  it,  and  I  think  my  labour  was  repaid, 
as  I  made  a  great  success  in  it.  I  was  very  much 
amused  with  Mongini,  with  whom  I  had  to  sing 
three  duets.  The  first  one,  when  I  assisted  him 
into  the  tent  after  he  was  wounded,  was  very  soft, 
and  at  rehearsal  one  day  he  impressed  strongly  on 
me  that  it  should  be  sung  as  piano  as  possible,  as  he 
was  supposed  to  be  dying  from  loss  of  blood.  At 
the  next  rehearsal  I  began  my  part  in  a  whisper,  but 
he  evidently  forgot  about  the  loss  of  blood  and  did 
not  husband  his  voice;  I  could  not  hear  myself,  so 
was  obliged  to  use  more  power  too,  which  did  not 
result  in  a  model  piano.  However,  he  expressed 
himself  perfectly  satisfied,  so  I  made  no  remark. 

He  used  to  grow  very  excited  over  his  work,  so 
much  so  that  towards  the  end  of  an  opera  in  which 
he  took  great  interest  he  seemed  scarcely  able  to 
control  himself. 

He  had  been  a  dragoon  and  used  to  the  broad- 
sword, and  when  excited  laid  about  him  most  vigor- 
ously. I  am  no  swordsman;  I  never  studied 
anything  except  the  small  sword  for  a  short  time, 
more  to  acquire  greater  freedom  in  my  joints  than 
for  actual  sword  practice.  I  was  consequently  no 
match  for  such  an  adversary,  and  I  confess  he  made 
me  feel  somewhat  nervous  in  the  duel  at  the  end  of 
"La  Forza."  He  did  pink  me  one  night.  I  thought 
he  had  cut  off  the  end  of  my  first  finger,  the  blow  so 
benumbed  it.  When  I  dropped  dead,  my  right  hand 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY        273 

being  out  of  sight  of  the  audience,  I  felt  with  my 
thumb  and  found  the  blood  trickling  freely.  I 
had  to  lie  on  the  stage  about  ten  minutes  before 
the  curtain  fell,  and  a  very  long  ten  minutes  they 
appeared.  I  was  very  much  relieved  when  I  found 
my  finger,  except  for  a  tolerably  large  cut,  all  safe. 

We  played  it  only  a  few  times,  and  I  do  not  think 
it  lias  ever  been  revived  since. 

"Don  Giovanni"  was  played  with  Xilsson  as 
Donna  Elvira.  It  was  intended  that  I  should  play 
Don  Giovanni;  but  Gassier,  who  was  asked  to  play 
Leporello,  refused.  He  was  a  very  good  comrade, 
and  I  could  quite  understand  his  objection  to  giving 
up  a  part  he  had  always  played  during  his  engage- 
ment at  Her  Majesty's  to  a  comparatively  new- 
comer; so,  to  avoid  annoyance  to  him  and  trouble 
to  the  manager,  having  played  the  part  already,  and 
successfully,  I  undertook  the  part  of  Leporello. 
Tietjens,  of  course,  played  Donna  Anna;  Sinico  was 
the  Zeiiina,  Gardoni  Ottavio,  and  Rokitansky  II 
Commendatore.  I  think  it  must  have  been  a  very 
good  performance;  it  certainly  was  attractive,  as  it 
drew  several  full  houses. 

"Dinorah,"  with  the  same  cast  as  the  year  before, 
was  performed,  as  also  were  "Fidelio ";  "Oberon," 
with  Mongini  as  Sir  Huon ;  "Medea,"  given  once 
for  Mongini's  benefit,  he  playing  Jason;  "Frei- 
schut/."  in  which  Mon^hii  played  Rodolfo;  and  "Les 
Huguenots,"  in  which  he  played  Raoul.  There  were 
several  new  ladies  announced  to  appear  in  the  list 


274        REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

of  engagements.  I  forget  whether  any  of  them  did 
appear;  if  they  did,  they  disappeared,  as  nothing 
more  was  ever  heard  of  them,  and  I  have  not  the 
slightest  recollection  of  what  they  did  or  did  not 
do.  The  season  must  have  been  good.  Nilsson  was 
a  great  success  —  in  fact,  took  the  opera-going  pub- 
lic by  storm,  crowded  houses  whenever  she  sang 
being  the  result;  but  it  was  not  so  wonderful  as 
the  brazen  symphony  would  have  led  the  public  to 
expect. 

After  a  few  weeks'  rest  came  the  Hereford  festi- 
val, this  year  before  Birmingham,  as  they  found  the 
greater  attraction  of  Birmingham  detrimental  to  the 
interests  of  the  smaller  festival.  I  had  little  to  do, 
as  Weiss  sang  "Elijah,"  and  most  of  the  sacred 
music.  The  great  event  to  me  was  singing  with 
Jenny  Lind,  for  the  first  time,  in  her  husband's 
oratorio  "Ruth."  I  was  greatly  elated  at  having  to 
take  part  in  a  work,  and  sing  an  important  duet, 
with  an  artist  who  had  been  always  one  of  my 
deities.  It  is  not  my  business  to  criticise  any  work 
in  which  I  take  part;  only  one  thing  I  will  take  the 
liberty  of  saying,  as  it  applies  not  alone  to  the 
composer  of  "Ruth,"  but  to  all  the  composers  of 
modern  oratorios  except  Costa.  The  work  showed 
an  intimate  knowledge  with  the  powers  of  every 
instrument  except  the  human  voice,  which,  I  con- 
tend, ought  to  have  the  first  consideration  with  the 
composer  of  a  vocal  work.  The  principal  feature  of 
"Ruth"  was  the  air  in  which  Ruth  says:  "Thy 


REMINISCENCES    OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY        275 

people  shall  be  my  people,  and  thy  God  my  God." 
Though  thoroughly  unvocal,  Jenny  Lind  declaimed 
it  in  such  a  way  that  I  trembled  with  excitement. 
This  was  not  the  only  feat  she  performed.  She 
sang  "I  know  that  my  Redeemer  liveth  "  as  she  only 
ever  did  sing  it,  in  my  opinion ;  but  it  was  in  a 
much  smaller  effort  that  she  made  a  lasting  impres- 
sion on  me.  The  tenor  was  not  on  the  orchestra  at 
the  commencement  of  the  second  part.  Townshend 
Smith  turned  to  me,  and  asked  me  if  I  would  sing 
tin-  tenor  recitative  "  Cnto  which  of  the  angels  said 
He  at  any  time,  Thou  art  My  Son ;  this  day  have  I 
begotten  Thee?"  I  replied:  "I  cannot;  it  is  too 
high."  "Oh."  said  he,  "it  only  goes  up  to  G!" 
"Yes."  said  I.  "but  how?  Ask  Madame  Gold- 
schmidt."  He  did,  and  she  immediately  arose  and 
sang  it.  I  was  so  struck  with  the  way  in  which  she 
rendered  those  words  I  scarcely  breathed.  It  was 
a  lesson  to  me,  and  at  the  same  time  a  reprimand, 
which  I  never  forgot.  It  was  one  of  the  great  les- 
sons I  have  had  in  my  life,  by  which  I  may  confi- 
dently say  I  profited.  It  was  a  reprimand,  inasmuch 
as  I  had  never  given  my  mind  to  the  deep  study 
which  the  words  of  the  oratorio  necessitated  on  the 
part  of  a  singer  who  is  desirous  of  impressing  the 
audience  with  their  true  meaning. 

Birmingham  came  immediately  after.  Weiss  sang 
both  in  "Elijah"  and  "St.  Paul,"  so  my  share  in 
the  oratorio  was  pretty  light.  I  sang  the  three 
songs  in  the  "Messiah";  "But  who  may  abide," 


276         REA1INISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

according  to  the  custom  prevailing  there,  being 
sung  by  the  contralto.  They  say  it  was  written  for 
alto  —  possibly!1  I  know  in  my  young  days,  when 
I  used  to  be  hauled  off,  pretty  much  against  my 
will,  to  the  performances  of  the  "Old  Festival 
Choral  Society  "  in  Liverpool  (I  suppose  I  was  about 
nine  or  ten  when  I  first  went),  "But  who  may 
abide "  was  always  sung  by  a  bass ;  moreover,  I 
never  heard  an  alto  attempt  to  sing  it,  and  I  cer- 
tainly have  never  heard  a  contralto  who  could  sing 
it  with  any  effect.  I  sang  in  Sterndale  Bennett's 
oratorio,  in  which  I  had  only  a  slight  morsel  — 
which  he  wrote  on  his  journey  from  London  to 
Birmingham  on  the  Sunday  evening  preceding  the 
festival  —  and  in  Gounod's  Mass.  Benedict's  "St. 
Cecilia "  and  J.  F.  Barnett's  "  Ancient  Mariner " 
were  included  in  the  evening  programmes;  I  took 
part  in  both.  I  had  some  friends  to  sup  with  me 
one  evening  after  the  performance  —  Sterndale  Ben- 
nett, Benedict,  J.  W.  Davison,  C.  L.  Gruneisen, 
Charles  Lucas,  etc.  The  conversation  somehow 
worked  round  to  an  ancient  quarrel  between  Costa 
and  Bennett,  when,  to  my  great  surprise,  Charles 
Lucas  proposed  that  I  should  act  as  mediator  in 
endeavouring  to  restore  friendship  between  them.  I 
have  often  wished  since  I  had  had  the  courage  to 
undertake  it,  as  a  man  like  Lucas  was  not  likely  to 

1  The  point  has  been  cleared  up  by  the  recently  discovered 
annotated  programme  book  of  the  original  performance  of  the 
"Messiah."  On  that  occasion  it  was  sung  by  the  bass.  This  can, 
perhaps,  be  procured  for  inspection. 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SAXTLEY        277 

propose  such  a  thing  without  well  weighing  his 
proposal.  I  excused  myself  entirely  on  the  ground 
that  such  an  attempt  on  the  part  of  a  man  so  much 
younger  than  those  with  whom  he  was  requested 
to  treat  would  no  doubt  savour  strongly  of  imper- 
tinence. 

The  operatic  tour  commenced  soon  after.  I  see 
we  played  the  "Huguenots"  with  Alessandro  I>et- 
tini  as  Raoul.  The  notice  says.  "'I,es  Huguenots' 
seems  to  have  created  an  extraordinary  effect."  I 
should  think  it  did!  I  remember  a  tale  about  a 
tomtit  on  a  pear-tree,  which  might  have  been  applied 
to  this  performance.  At  the  rehearsal  I  heard  the 
orchestra  trying  something  which  seemed  to  a  cer- 
tain extent  familial1  to  my  ears,  but  I  could  not  put 
a  name  to  it.  I  asked  Arditi  if  it  was  some  over- 
ture they  were  going  to  play  before  the  opera. 
"What  overture?"  said  he.  ".That  you  have  just 
been  rehearsing."  "Oh,  don't  bother  me"  (very 
angrily);  "it's  the  introduction  to  the  opera."  "I 
certainly  did  not  recogni/.e  it."  said  I.  "No.  nor 
Meyerbeer  himself  with  half  an  orchestra  and  such  a 
half!"  Oh,  we  did  have  joyous  times  at  the  opera 
in  the  Emerald  isle,  and  made  many  extraordinary 
effects — -a  great  many  quite  unintentionally! 

Some  effects,  and  very  inartistic  ones,  however, 
were  made  intentionally  —  for  instance,  on  the  last 
night  of  our  Dublin  season  the  prima  donna,  after 
the  great  air  in  "Oberon."  went  forward  to  the 
footlights,  an  upright  piano  was  wheeled  on  to  the 


278         REMINISCENCES    OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

stage,  at  which  a  gentleman  in  evening  dress  took 
his  place,  and  accompanied  the  lady  in  "The  Last 
Hose  of  Summer."  I  know  such  things  are  asked 
for  by  audiences.  I  have  been  requested  in  Dublin 
to  sing  "  The  Stirrup  Cup "  as  an  encore  in  u  II 
Flauto  Magico,"  and  I  have  been  asked  to  substitute 
the  same  song  for  the  air  in  "II  Trovatore "  in 
America.  I  cannot  help  saying  I  think  it  is  not 
only  bad  taste,  but  bad  judgment,  to  give  way  to 
such  requests. 

We  returned  to  town  for  the  customary  short 
season,  and  opened  on  the  2nd  of  November  with 
"Faust,"  in  which  Clara  Louise  Kellogg,  of  whom 
much  had  been  said  during  her  career  in  America, 
made  her  first  appearance  on  this  side  of  the 
Atlantic.  She  also  played  during  the  same  season 
in  "La  Traviata,"  "Marta,"and  "Linda  di  Chamou- 
nix  "  (in  which  I  played  Antonio  for  the  first  time). 
She  had  genius,  yet  though  she  was  successful  in 
almost  all  the  parts  she  attempted,  she  did  not  attain 
the  position  her  talents  merited,  but  through  no 
fault  of  her  own. 

On  Thursday,  the  5th  of  December,  we  played 
"Don  Giovanni,"  in  which  Kellogg  played  Zerlina; 
the  next  day  I  went  to  Brighton,  to  fulfil  an  engage- 
ment at  a  small  festival.  I  sang  "Elijah"  on  the 
Friday  morning,  and  in  a  miscellaneous  concert  in 
the  evening  I  sang  "Oh,  ruddier  than  the  cherry." 
On  Saturday  morning  I  was  having  breakfast,  when 
Lewis  Thomas  was  announced.  I  thought  it  was 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY        279 

an  early  hour  to  receive  a  visit,  and  when  I  saw  his 
doleful  countenance  I  thought  he  was  unwell  and 
could  not  sing,  and  had  come  to  ask  me  to  do  his 
share  of  the  work  in  addition  to  my  own;  I  felt 
uneasy  for  the  moment,  as  the  thought  passed 
through  my  mind,  for  I  had  to  get  hack  to  town  to 
play  Pizarro  in  "  Fidelio  "  at  night.  After  keeping 
me  in  suspense  for  a  few  moments,  he  informed  me 
that  Her  Majesty's  Theatre  had  been  burnt  to  the 
ground.  It  was  a  shock,  for  I  had  become  much 
attached  to  the  old  place:  I  felt  a  little  uneasy,  too, 
about  my  theatrical  wardrobe,  worth  about  £500, 
which  I  anticipated  had  been  destroyed  in  the  tire, 
and  was  not  insured.  However,  that  did  not  trouble 
me  so  much  as  the  loss  of  the  splendid  theatre,  the 
number  of  people  who  would  be  thrown  out  of 
employment,  and  the  almost  certainty  that  an  audi- 
torium possessing  such  perfect  acoustic  properties 
would  never  be  erected  again.  On  my  jeturn  to 
town  1  hastened  round  to  look  on  the  remains  of 
mv  old  home,  where  I  had  enjoyed  many  modest 
triumphs,  and  in  which  I  sang  the  last  notes  heard 
within  its  walls  by  the  public.  My  wardrobe  had 
been  saved  through  the  presence  of  mind  of  one  of 
the  firemen  belonging  to  the  theatre,  named  Easten, 
who  cut  off  the  bottom  of  the  staircase  leading  to 
mv  dressing-room  just  as  the  tire  was  laying  hold  of 
the  woodwork. 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

Death  of  J.  C.  Tully,  Composer,  Conductor,  and  Gourmet  —  A 
Bumptious  Yankee  Tenor  —  "La  Gazza  Ladra "  —  Florid  Sing- 
ing—  Decadence  of  the  Florid  Style  —  "  Production "'  —  "  Rigo- 
letto  "  — Kellogg  and  her  Drum  —  A  Monstrosity  at  the  Crystal 
Palace  —  Dr.  Wesley  —  Carl  Formes  —  At  Covent  Garden  —  A 
Deluge  and  an  Empty  House. 

THE  commencement  of  the  year  1868  various  con- 
certs —  Monday  Popular,  Sacred  Harmonic,  Martin's 
Choir,  etc. — kept  me  occupied  until  Mapleson's 
tour  began  (I  have  no  record  of  the  date,  but  I 
presume  early  in  February),  and  continued  until 
shortly  before  the  opera  season  at  Drury  Lane  Thea- 
tre. About  the  end  of  January  was  announced  the 
death  of  Mr.  J.  C.  Tully,  a  very  clever  musician. 
He  was  best  known  as  an  arranger  of  music  for 
burlesques,  pantomimes,  and  melodramas,  for  which 
he  had  a  singular  aptitude.  He,  however,  did  much 
service  as  a  conductor  of  English  opera,  and  di- 
rected the  performance  of  "  The  Amber  Witch "  at 
Drury  Lane  in  1861.  He  was,  likewise,  composer 
of  a  very  successful  opera  on  the  subject  of  "  Black- 
eyed  Susan,"  which  enjoyed  a  long  run  at  Drury 
Lane  Theatre.  In  1857,  or  about  that  time,  he  had 
an  English  opera  company  of  his  own  at  Sadlers' 
280 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY        281 

Wells.  I  have  heard  a  good  story  in  connection 
with  the  venture,  which  may  perhaps  amuse  my 
readers.  He  engaged  as  principal  tenor  an  Ameri- 
can gentleman  who,  having  made  a  small  reputation 
as  a  concert  singer,  imagined  he  had  become  an 
artist  of  importance ;  the  terms  were  left  open  at  his 
suggestion,  until  he  had  shown  what  his  capabilities 
were.  The  public  did  not  appear  so  satisfied  with 
them  as  he  himself,  and  occasionally  gave  vent  to 
their  disapprobation.  On  Saturday  Mr.  Tenor  pre- 
sented himself  at  the  treasury,  when  Tully  asked 
him  what  he  thought  the  salary  ought  to  be ;  there 
was  a  great  deal  of  explanation  about  enormous 
success  and  public  favour,  etc.,  so,  to  cut  the  matter 
short,  Tully  requested  that,  without  further  parley, 
he  would  name  a  sum.  The  tenor  replied,  with 
great  confidence,  that  he  thought  he  was  worth  ,£20 
per  week,  or  nothing.  "Then,"  said  Tully,  "sup- 
pose we  say  the  latter."  Tully  was  a  genial  man, 
and  a  great  favourite  with  all  who  knew  him  well ; 
he  was  also  a  "gourmet,"  and  had  a  splendid  caterer 
in  his  wife.  He  confided  to  me,  when  we  were 
discussing  gastronomy,  that  anybody  who  had  not 
partaken  of  Mrs.  T.  's  lobster  salad  had  no  idea  what 
lobster  salad  meant. 

The  opera  season,  which  commenced  on  the  28th 
of  March,  was  much  more  modestly  announced  than 
the  preceding  one.  The  only  new  addition  to  the 
list  of  singers  was  Fraschini,  the  tenor.  He  had 
sung  in  England  in  1847,  at  Her  Majesty's  Theatre, 


282         REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

but  he  had  theii  to  compete  with  other  tenors  who 
were  already  great  favourites,  and  he  failed  to  estab- 
lish a  position.  He  had  a  magnificent  voice,  of 
which  he  made  more  lavish  use  than  the  delicate 
subscribers  to  the  Italian  opera  cared  for;  he  phrased 
well,  and  certain  passages  I  have  never  heard  any 
other  tenor  make  so  much  effect  with ;  for  instance, 
that  in  the  duet  of  the  last  act  of  "  Marta  "  with  the 
soprano,  "Era  la  stella  dell'  amor."  He  was  unin- 
teresting on  the  stage,  which  may  account  for  his 
not  meeting  with  the  success  his  talents  and  gifts  as 
a  singer  merited.  Auber's  "Gustavo"  and  Wag- 
ner's "Lohengrin'"  were  promised,  but  not  per- 
formed. Of  the  latter  we  had  three  or  four 
rehearsals,  but  for  some  cause,  to  me  unknown,  it 
was  abandoned.  I  was  not  sorry,  for  I  did  not  con- 
ceive any  great  affection  for  the  part  of  Federico. 
"La  Gazza  Ladra,"  also  promised,  was  produced, 
with  Kellogg  as  Ninetta,  Trebelli  as  Pippo,  Foli  as 
II  Podesta,  Bettini  as  Giannetto,  Lyall  as  the  Jew 
pedlar — in  which  he  made  a  great  success  —  and 
myself  as  Fernando.  It  was  one  of  the  few  operas 
in  which  I  had  an  opportunity  of  displaying  my 
powers  as  a  florid  singer,  and  judging  from  accounts 
my  efforts  were  successful.  My  master  always  said 
it  was  the  style  I  should  most  excel  in ;  it  was  the 
one  he  was  most  desirous  I  should  cultivate,  as 
there  were  few  male  singers,  even  at  that  time,  who 
could  execute  the  music  Rossini  wrote.  Whether 
the  composers  did  not  care  to  write  in  that  style,  or 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY        283 

could  not  find  singers  to  execute  it,  I  do  not  know, 
but  since  Rossini  no  composer  except  Mercadante 
has  entrusted  male  singers  with  florid  music.  It  is 
a  style  now  considered  old-fashioned  and  out  of 
date,  which  no  doubt  is  true  as  regards  public  per- 
formance; but  it  is  a  pity  the  practice  of  it  by 
students  is  fast  becoming  obsolete. 

The  constant  study  of  what  is  very  often  miscalled 
declamatory  music  by  those  who  have  made  but  a 
cursory  study  of  joining  notes  together  in  groups  of 
two,  three,  four,  six,  etc.,  has  a  bad  effect  on  the 
tone  produced;  it  becomes  hard  and  uneven.  Thus 
the  "  canta  bile  "  style,  which  really  means  the  sing- 
ing a  succession  of  notes  without  cessation  of  sound, 
and  which  is  the  foundation  of  all  good  singing,  is 
never  acquired.  Why  do  pianists  study  five-finger 
exercises?  Is  it  merely  to  acquire  facility  of  exe- 
cution? Certainly  not;  it  is,  for  the  greater  part, 
to  give  equality  of  tone  to  each  note,  and  to  join  the 
notes  that  there  shall  not  be  any  sensible  cessation 
of  sound,  without  running  one  into  another,  as  they 
are  struck  in  succession.  So  with  singing;  the 
practice  of  groups  of  notes  is  to  give  equality  of 
tone  to  each  note  in  the  voice.  This  study  is  really 
the  study  of  "production,"  about  which  so  much  non- 
sense is  talked  at  the  present  day  by  many  who  pro- 
fess to  teach  singing,  but  who  know  nothing  about 
it  themselves. 

I  will  not  say  any  more  on  this  subject  at  present, 
as  I  intend  to  speak  fully  upon  it  at  some  future 
time. 


284         REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES.  SANTLEY 

Early  in  the  season  I  played  in  "  Rigoletto  "  with 
Kellogg  (Gilda)  and  Fraschini  (the  Duke).  Of 
course,  reference  was  made  to  Giorgio  Ronconi.  I 
do  not  object,  but  I  think  I  was  much  more  aware 
of  how  far  behind  my  great  model  I  was  than  those 
who  criticised  me.  However,  credit  was  given  me 
for  progress  in  the  histrionic  part  of  my  \vork,  so  I 
am  comforted.  Kellogg  sang  and  played  the  part  of 
Gilda  to  perfection;  she  was  always  thoroughly  in 
earnest.  Her  earnestness  excited  my  emulation, 
and  materially  assisted  in  my  making  a  success. 
"  Les  Huguenots  "  was  played  with  a  tenor  called  at 
Her  Majesty's  Theatre  Sig.  Ferensi,  a  Hungarian, 
whose  real  name  was  Ferensky.  I  do  not  remember 
anything  about  him,  except  that,  after  coming  out, 
he  soon  went  in,  and  I  never  heard  any  more  of 
him. 

Nilsson  essayed  the  part  of  Cherubino  in  "Le 
Nozze  cli  Figaro."  It  was  pleasant  to  hear  the  music 
in  the  proper  keys,  but  the  impersonation  was  not  a 
success.  She  wore  a  nondescript  dress  which  spoiled 
her  figure;  instead  of  a  sprightly  page,  she  looked 
exactly  what  she  was.  a  woman  dressed  in  male 
attire,  and  very  unhappy  without  the  petticoats. 
Kellogg  did  not  arouse  great  enthusiasm  with  her 
Maria  in  "La  figlia  del  Reggimento."  I  think  the 
drum  spoiled  it.  She  had  been  practising  the  roll 
for  some  time,  and  mastered  it  as  far  as  private 
performance  went,  but  when  it  came  to  the  point 
in  public  where  she  had  to  exhibit  her  dexterity, 


RIGOLETTO 


A7-;j//.\7.S'(.7-;.VC'A\V    OF   CHARLES   SANTLEY        28.S 

the  drum  was  not  forthcoming,  and  the  public  were 
highly  amused  at  her  dashing  off  the  stage,  and 
interpolating  a  scene  not  in  the  libretto:  ''Where's 
my  drum  ?  where 's  my  drum?"  A  trifle  such  asthis 
is  sufficient  to  upset  an  entire  impersonation,  or,  at 
any  rate,  a  great  portion  of  it.  The  drumming  did 
not  go  off  so  well  as  it  might  have  done,  and  the 
agitation  it  caused  the  drummer  was  very  noticeable 
in  the  address  to  the  regiment,  "Convien  partir." 
She  made  a  great  mistake,  too,  for  which,  however, 
she  had  ample  precedent,  of  substituting  a  flimsy 
Avaltz  for  the  original  finale  of  the  opera.  I  have 
wondered  many  a  time  why  Leonora  in  the  "Trova- 
tore  "  was  not  resuscitated  to  execute  a  waltz  and 
make  all  things  end  happily. 

To  Nilsson  was  assigned  the  part  of  Margarita  in 
"  Faust.''  After  Madame  Carvalho  she  was,  in  my 
opinion,  the  nearest  approach  to  the  ideal  Margarita. 
On  the  loth  of  July  I  took  part  in  a  monstrosity  at 
the  Crystal  Palace  for  the  benefit  of  Mr.  Mapleson, 
consisting  of  a  concert  in  the  afternoon  and  a  per- 
formance of  "  Le  Nozze  di  Figaro  "  in  the  evening. 
The  Miixu-al  World  says:  "The  glimpses  of  the 
brilliantly-lighted  stage  from  the  semi-gloom  of 
distant  points  was  singularly  striking  and  effec- 
tive! "  I  could  not  judge  of  that,  but  the  effect  of 
the  semi-gloom  of  distant  points  from  the  stage 
produced  a  gloom  throughout  my  whole  system, 
which  spite  of  every  effort  on  my  part  I  could  not 
shake  off.  I  went  through  my  part  mechanically ;  it 


286         REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

was  one  of  the  most  dismal  exhibitions,  as  far  as  I 
myself  was  concerned,  that  I  ever  took  part  in;  it 
was  like  one  of  the  disturbed  dreams  I  am  accus- 
tomed to  when  my  mind  is  troubled  or  overworked. 
I  invariably  dream  I  am  back  again  in  the  old  office 
where  I  served  my  time,  with  my  books  all  in  con- 
fusion, or  that  I  have  to  sing  an  opera  which  I  have 
quite  forgotten  or  never  known.  I  am  aware  it  is 
accounted  a  silly  thing  to  relate  one's  dreams,  but 
I  will  venture  to  give  an  example  of  my  troubled 
ones.  In  one  I  had  to  sing  an  opera  composed  by 
Signer  Pezze,  the  violoncellist,  of  which  there  were 
three  representations.  I  had  never  seen  a  note  or 
word  of  it,  but  I  dressed  and  went  through  the  first 
performance  without  a  mistake ;  at  the  second  I  had 
some  difficulty  about  my  dress,  and  I  was  constantly 
going  down  wrong  turnings  in  the  music.  At  the 
third  I  could  not  find  several  parts  of  my  costume, 
and  at  last  was  obliged  to  rush  on  the  stage  without 
hat,  jacket,  or  boots,  and  when  I  found  myself 
before  the  footlights  I  could  not  remember  a  word 
or  note  of  my  part.  In  another  curious  dream,  I 
was  playing  in  "Don  Giovanni"  with  my  usual 
companions  at  Her  Majesty's.  At  the  end  of  the 
first  act  I  thought  I  would  like  a  blow  of  fresh  air, 
as  the  theatre  was  very  close  and  hot,  so  I  laid  aside 
my  costume,  put  on  my  walking-dress,  and  set  out 
for  a  stroll.  After  some  time  I  found  myself  at  one 
of  the  landing-places  on  the  Lake  of  Como;  the 
moon  was  shining  brightly,  so  I  thought  a  short  sail 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY       287 

would  IK-  pleasant.  Accordingly  I  hired  a  bout  and 
rowed  about  for  a  considerable  time,  until  I  thought 
perhaps  I  might  lie  wanted  to  finish  the  opera.  I 
hastened  back  and  was  met  at  the  door  by  Madame 
Trebelli  (Zerlina),  who  told  me  the  stage  was  wait- 
ing. I  got  on  my  costume  in  that  short  spare  of 
time  in  which  one  accomplishes  all  kinds  of  wonders 
in  dreams,  went  on.  and  to  my  astonishment  found 
myself  in  a  real  cemetery.  All  was  dark.  I  could 
only  distinguish  the  white  tombstones;  there  was 
no  orchestra  and  no  public,  and  whilst  I  was  debat- 
ing what  I  had  better  do,  everything  faded  away  and 
left  me  to  finish  my  sleep  in  peace. 

The  Handel  festival  took  place  in  June.  I  sang 
the  solos  in  the  "  Messiah,"  and  on  the  selection  day 
t\vo  airs,  "()  voi  dell'  Erebo,"  from  "La  Kesurre- 
y.ione,"  and  "Oh,  ruddier  than  the  cherry."  from 
"  Aris  and  (ialatea."  The  former  was  little  known  : 
it  was  shown  to  me  by  Manuel  (larcia  when  I  was 
having  lessons  from  him,  and  for  some  reason  it 
\vas  published  with  a  recitative  taken  from  another 
part  of  the  work,  while  that  which  precedes  it,  and 
naturally  leads  into  it,  was  left  out.  I  restored  the 
original  recitative.  I  think  it  is  one  of  Handel's 
finest  songs,  but  very  difficult.  I  sang  it  first  in 
I*.")*  at  a  concert  given  by  Molique,  but  never  suc- 
ceeded in  satisfving  myself  about  the  execution  of 
it  until  the  last  Handel  festival  in  1801.  On  the 
Friday  I  joined  Foli  in  the  duet  "The  Lord  is  a  man 
of  war."  During  the  week  Dr.  Wesley  called  upon 


288         REMINISCENCES    OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

me  to  make  arrangements  about  the  Gloucester  festi- 
val. He  brought  an  air  from  a  work  of  his  father, 
or  uncle,  which  he  asked  me  to  sing  at  one  of  the 
performances  in  the  cathedral,  saying  that  it  was  far 
finer  than  that  stupid  song  of  Handel's  he  had  heard 
me  sing  at  the  Crystal  Palace  (referring  to  "O  voi 
dell'  Erebo").  We  were  not  of  the  same  opinion, 
but  I  said  little,  though  I  thought  much  about  the 
difference  of  tastes.  I  have  already  mentioned  the 
little  brush  I  had  with  him  at  the  festival  of  1865. 
At  Hereford,  subsequently,  we  sang  his  fine  anthem, 
"The  Wilderness."  When  I  came  down  from  the 
orchestra  I  met  the  Doctor,  who  had  just  descended 
from  the  organ-loft,  and  complimented  him  on  his 
work,  asking  him  why  he  did  not  write  an  oratorio. 
He  held  his  pocket-handkerchief  over  his  mouth  as 
though  to  prevent  a  breath  escaping  (a  nervous  trick 
habitual  to  him),  and  after  chuckling  for  a  fe\v 
moments,  in  a  half-whisper  he  confided  to  me  that 
his  great  desire  was  to  write  an  opera  —  with  fairies 
in  it!  Done,  of  Worcester,  told  me  a  very  good 
story  of  him,  and  very  characteristic  of  the  man. 
The  Sunday  preceding  a  Worcester  festival  the  t\vo 
were  invited  to  dine  with  one  of  the  patrons  who 
lived  about  a  couple  of  miles  from  Done's  hou.sc, 
where  Dr.  Wesley  was  put  up  for  the  festival  week. 
At  dinner  there  was  a  fine  haunch  of  venison  which 
everybody  seemed  to  enjoy  very  much.  Return  ing- 
home  on  foot,  Wesley  walked  in  the  middle  of  the 
road  and  did  not  utter  a  single  word  until  Done  had 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY        289 

put  the  key  into  the  lock  of  the  house-door,  when, 
touching  him  on  the  arm  to  call  his  attention,  he 
said,  with  a  very  grave  face,  "  Did  they  give  you  any 
of  the  fat?''  At  the  festival  in  1865  I  forgot  to 
mention  one  of  the  Doctor's  little  vagaries,  which 
I  think  was  rather  amusing.  I  was  waiting  with 
Louisa  Pyne  to  go  on  to  the  orchestra  to  commence 
the  "Elijah,"  when  Dr.  Wesley  stepped  up,  saying 
he  would  give  us  a  signal  to  follow.  We  waited 
some  minutes,  when,  to  my  astonishment,  I  heard 
tlie  orchestra  attack  the  opening  bars  of  the  first 
recitative.  Blagrove  suggested  it  would  be  as  well 
to  wait  until  the  singers  appeared,  so  a  pause 
ensued.  Miss  Pyne  and  I  immediately  proceeded 
to  take  our  places,  but  before  I  could  reach  mine, 
the  conductor  started  again,  and  I  began  the  recita- 
tive as  I  walked  across  the  platform. 

The  opera  tour  followed.  Among  our  company 
we  had  Carl  Formes,  whose  voice  and  hair  created 
such  emulation  in  my  bosom  when  I  first  attacked 
the  bass  clef.  He  was  another  eccentric  man,  who 
drew  the  long  bow  further  than  any  other  individual 
I  have  ever  known ;  but  his  wonderful  adventures, 
much  after  the  style  of  Baron  Munchatisen,  were 
related  in  perfect  good  faith.  He  was  a  remarkably 
good  shot.  Madame  Rudersdorff  told  me  that  he 
used,  when  they  were  on  tour  together,  as  a  speci- 
men of  his  skill,  to  hit  a  penny,  which  she  held 
betwixt  her  finger  and  thumb  at  the  full  length  of  a 
large  room,  with  a  pistol  shot.  He  told  me  a  story 


290         REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

of  how  he  once  went  for  a  holiday  to  the  Rocky 
Mountains.  He  was  out  in  quest  of  bears — a  sort 
of  game  worthy  of  his  prowess  —  and  had  wandered 
a  long  time  without  meeting  any,  when  at  last, 
turning  a  corner  in  the  mountain-path  he  was  pur- 
suing, he  heard  a  noise,  and,  looking  up,  descried 
a  grizzly  bear  advancing  towards  him.  He  had 
scarcely  time  to  put  his  rifle  in  position,  when  the 
beast  was  close  in  front;  he  fired  both  barrels  and 
missed.  He  then  attacked  the  bear  with  his  hunt- 
ing-knife, and  succeeded  in  killing  him.  While  he 
was  in  the  act  of  skinning  him,  a  strange  sound 
attracted  his  attention,  and  to  his  horror  he  descried 
another  grizzly  coming  down;  this  time  he  went 
more  calmly  to  work,  and  brought  his  quarry  down 
with  his  rifle.  I  suppose  he  skinned  this  fellow 
also,  but  how  he  carried  the  skins  away,  or  what 
became  of  them,  I  do  not  remember.  He  also 
related  how,  through  his  tact  and  foresight,  the  vic- 
tory was  gained  at  Bull's  Run  during  the  American 
War,  and  how  in  a  storm  on  the  Atlantic  he  saved 
the  ship  in  which  he  was  sailing  —  one  of  the 
German  Lloyd  Line  —  by  supplying  the  place  of  the 
quartermaster,  who  was  thrown  down  and  severely 
hurt  by  a  sudden  turn  of  the  wheel.  But  he  could 
act  as  well  as  talk;  he  played  Rocco  in  "Fidelio," 
Marcel  in  the  "Huguenots,"  in  a  style  that  no  man 
in  my  time  has  approached,  and  except  Giorgio 
Ronconi  his  Leporello  was  the  finest  I  remember, 
especially  in  the  last  scene.  He  was  inferior  to 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHAKLES  SANTLF.Y        291 

Ronconi  in  the  comic  scenes.  I  had  not  known  him 
long  before  I  discovered  that,  with  all  his  terrible 
talk  and  bluster,  he  was  as  gentle  as  a  lamb.  We 
became  very  intimate  friends,  and  continued  so  until 
he  died  two  years  ago.  On  one  occasion,  when  he 
was  "up  a  tree,"  he  borrowed  a  small  sum  from  me 

—  about  the  year  ISlJO  or  1870,    I  should  think:  I 
thought  he  had  forgotten  all  about  it  —  I  had  myself 

—  but  during  his  last  visit  to  London,  in  1888,  he 
mentioned  it,  and  said  that  as  soon  as  he  was  in  a 
position  to  do  so  he  would  repay  me.      I  told  him 
not  to  trouble  himself,  as  I  had  forgotten  all  about 
it;  but  he  kept  his  word,  and  I  received  P.O.  orders 
for  the  sum  —  with  interest  —  at    Brindisi,   on   my 
way  to  Australia  in  1889,   whither  his   letter  was 
forwarded  to  me.      I  wish  some  others  would  imitate 
his  example,  albeit  without  the  interest! 

Our  London  autumn  season  was  carried  on  at 
Covent  (ianlen.  where  we  had  an  addition  to  our 
company  in  Miss  Minnie  Hauck.  She  made  her 
first  appearance  in  "La  Sonnambula";  it  was  a  very 
crude  and  imperfect  performance,  both  lyrically  and 
histrionically.  Mongini  played  Elvino;  he  was 
about  as  unlike  the  ideal  Elvino  as  anything  could 
possibly  be,  but  his  voice  pulled  him  through.  I 
rind  that  Mr.  Santley  was  indisposed,  and  Signer 
Tagliafico  took  his  place.  Mr.  Santley  never  felt 
very  disposed  when  he  had  to  appear  as  the  Count 
in  the  "Sonnambula/'  It  must  have  been  in  the 
course  of  this  tour  that  I  first  played  Tom  Tug  in 


292         REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

the  "Waterman."  I  was  intimate  with  Mrs.  Glover, 
the  late  lessee  of  the  Theatre  Royal,  Glasgow,  and 
most  of  her  family.  She  wrote  asking  me  as  a 
favour  to  sing  a  song  on  the  occasion  of  her  eldest 
daughter's  benefit  at  the  Theatre  Royal,  Leeds.  I 
always  had  a  decided  objection  to  appearing  in  even- 
ing dress  before  the  footlights  between  the  acts  of 
a  drama,  so  I  declined  singing  a  song;  but  I  told 
Mrs.  Glover,  if  I  could  obtain  permission  from 
Mapleson  to  go  to  Leeds,  and  her  daughter  were 
willing  to  play  a  short  musical  piece,  I  would  do 
that  with  pleasure.  My  offer  was  joyfully  accepted. 
I  got  my  friend  Lyall  to  help  me  to  work  up  the 
dialogue,  as  I  knew  I  could  have  but  one  rehearsal, 
and  that  probably  a  scratch  one.  Fortunately  the 
manager  was  strict  about  business,  and  I  found  all 
concerned  in  the  drama  were  perfect  in  their  parts. 
I  was  highly  amused  at  his  anxiety  about  my  recep- 
tion. He  insisted  that,  instead  of  being  discovered 
seated  at  the  table  with  old  Bundle,  I  should  enter 
after  the  curtain  rose,  something  being  interpolated 
to  increase  the  expectations  of  the  audience.  I 
objected  to  the  Crummlesonian  dodge,  and  was  dis- 
covered when  the  curtain  rose,  but  received  as  enthu- 
siastic a  reception  as  man  could  desire.  The  piece 
went  very  well;  the  house  was  crammed  from  floor 
to  ceiling,  and  the  manager  said  they  had  never  seen 
such  a  house  before. 

In  the  following  spring,  at  a  time  when  there  was 
little  doing,  I  had  an  offer  made  me  by  the  manager 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SAXT1.KY       293 

of  the  other  theatre  in  Leeds  —  a  son-in-law  of  Mrs. 
Glover  —  to  play  Tom  Tug  twice  in  that  town  — 
once  in  Sheffield  and  once  in  Bradford.  I  accepted, 
as  the  term-;  (sharing)  seemed  highly  satisfactory, 
and,  judging  from  the  success  of  my  former  perform- 
ance, I  looked  forward  to  making  a  substantial  sum. 
I  began  at  Ihadford,  but  there  was  a  poor  house: 
except  Miss  Glover,  none  of  the  actors  knew  their 
parts.  Mr.  P>undle  did  not  know  even  the  first  line, 
and  I  had  to  prompt  him  all  through  the  first  scene. 
I  felt  somewhat  depressed.  The  second  performance 
was  in  Leeds — the  house,  to  my  astonishment,  very 
poor;  but  Sheffield  was  a  trifle  better.  The  last 
night  was  the  second  performance  in  Leeds ;  at  the 
hour  when  those  who  intend  being  present  at  a  per- 
formance are  about  leaving  their  homes,  there  came 
on  a  storm ;  the  rain  fell  in  sheets  of  water,  not  a 
soul  could  stir  out,  and  umbrellas  were  quite  use- 
less. I  arrived  at  the  theatre,  and  found  my  dress- 
ing-room  floor  covered  with  water  —  I  had  to  stand 
on  a  plank  to  dress  myself.  When  I  was  nearly 
ready,  the  call-boy  came  in  to  ask  me  if  I  was  going 
to  play.  -Certainly:"  I  said.  "Whynot?  What 
have  I  come  for?"  "Well,  sir,"  said  he,  "there's 
hardly  anybody  in  the  house."  "Is  there  anyone  at 
all?"  I  asked.  "Yes,  but  very  few."  "No  mat- 
ter." 1  said;  "  if  there's  only  one,  I'll  do  the  best  I 
can  in  return  for  his  good-nature  in  turning  out  on 
such  a  night  as  this."  When  the  curtain  rose,  I 
could  not  distinguish  a  single  being  in  the  house. 


294         REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

There  were  a  few  determined  admirers,  though,  for 
the  receipts  were  twelve  shillings  and  sixpence.  I 
think  I  may  boast  of  having  played  to  the  smallest, 
or  one  of  the  smallest,  houses  ever  known.  The 
whole  venture  netted  a  sum  'of  eleven  pounds  for  my 
share,  one  of  which  I  gave  to  the  attendants  at  the 
theatre ;  the  rest  I  handed  to  Miss  Glover,  as  she 
had  lost  her  purse,  with  ten  pounds  in  it,  in  one  of 
the  hotels.  I  had  my  week's  trouble  for  nothing, 
minus  my  travelling  and  hotel  expenses. 


CHAPTER   XIX 

Season  of  18G9  —  Gyt-  and  Mapleson  combine  —  A  Phenomenal 
Buffo  —  Nilsson  as  Ophelia  —  I  play  the  Doge  in  ••  1  diu-  F<>s- 
cari"— A  Spirited  Conductor  — A  Hard  Day's  Work  — Ros- 
sini's li  Messe  Solennelle  "  —  In  a  Railway  Accident ;  an  Insin- 
uating Doctor  —  Concert  touring  in  1870  —  Brutus  and  the 
Goat 

THE  season  of  1869  is  a  memorable  one  in  the 
annals  of  Italian  opera.  About  the  beginning  of  the 
year  an  announcement  appeared  in  the  Qitt'<-n,  written, 
I  presume,  by  C.  L.  Gruneison,  to  this  effect  :  "  We 
have  reason  to  believe  that  the  two  Italian  Opera 
House  potentates,  Mr.  Gye  and  Mr.  Mapleson,  have 
signed  and  sealed  for  the  long-rumoured  fusion  of  the 
two  establishments  which  they  have  directed.  The 
details  of  the  convention  have  not  yet  transpired,  but 
the  main  clause  is  that  there  will  be  only  one  Italian 
Opera  House  for  the  year  1SI>1>,  and  that  is  to  be 
at  Co  vent  Garden  Theatre.  Her  Majesty's  Theatre 
will  remain  closed  for  that  season,  at  all  events,  as 
Mr.  Mapleson  has  one  year  unexpired  of  his  lease 
under  Lord  Dudley.  His  lordship  having  declined 
to  renew  it  for  a  longer  period,  Mr.  Mapleson  natur- 
ally could  not  make  the  outlay  for  the  mise  en  scene 
of  one  }Tear  only.  It  is  given  out  that  the  two  troupes 
will  be  wedded,  so  as  to  form  one  very  powerful 

295 


296         REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

company,  which  will  include  Adelina  Patti  and 
Miles.  Nilsson,  Tietjens  and  Trebelli-Bettini,  Mario 
and  Mongini,  Graziani  and  Santley,  etc.  Whether 
there  are  to  be  two  directors  or  only  one  is  not  offi- 
cially stated  as  yet,  but  report  affirms  that  Mr.  Gye 
will  vacate  to  leave  Mr.  Mapleson  in  office.  It  is 
also  added  that,  if  Costa  and  Arditi  will  consent  to 
work  together,  they  are  to  be  alternate  conductors. 
Of  the  fact  of  the  '  fusion '  there  can  be  no  doubt ; 
about  its  successful  working  opinions  will  differ. 
Those  who  believe  in  the  Guelphs  and  Ghibellines, 
the  Montagues  and  the  Capulets,  or  of  any  two  Cor- 
sican  families  who  have  pronounced  for  the  vendetta, 
can  attach  faith  to  an  artistic  accolade.  The  directors 
may  manage  to  agree,  but  how  will  the  prima  donnas, 
the  tender  tenors,  and  the  profound  bassi  ?  " 

It  is  worthy  of  note  that  the  blustering  baritones 
are  not  mentioned  amongst  those  of  the  company 
likely  to  be  victims  of  the  green-eyed  monster. 

The  combination  was  effected,  and  out  of  the  long 
list  of  artists,  only  one  of  importance,  Pauline  Lucca, 
did  not  appear.  I  was  much  disappointed  that  Costa 
would  not  consent  to  the  arrangement  to  have  two 
conductors,  and  consequently  seceded.  I  hoped  to 
have  served  under  his  command  again  at  the  opera. 
There  were  probably  heart-burnings  and  rivalries 
amongst  some  members  of  the  company,  but  as  I 
did  not  interfere  with  other  people's  business,  I  could 
only  conjecture  from  certain  indications  and  occa- 
sional repressed  hints.  Most  of  the  operas  promised 


REMINISCENCES    OF  CHARLES   S.-tNTl.EY        297 

were  performed,  also  one  of  which  the  prospectus 
said,  "  Negotiations  are  in  progress  for  the  perform- 
ance for  the  first  time  in  England  of  Ambroise 
Thomas's  celebrated  opera  '  Hamlet,'  the  character 
of  Ophelia  by  Mile.  Christine  Xilsson." 

The  season  opened  with  k%  Xorma,"  Tietjeus,  Sinico, 
Mnngini,  and  Foli ;  followed  by  "  Rigoletto,"  with 
Yanzini  (Mrs.  Van  Xandt,  mother  of  the  Mile.  Van 
Xandt  who  came  out  at  the  Opera  Comique),  Scalchi, 
Mongini,  Foli,  and  myself. 

••  Fidelio,"  "  Linda  di  Chamounix,"  and  the  ever- 
green "  Trovatore,"  came  in  their  turn.  lima  de 
Murska  played  Linda,  but  I  never  liked  her  in  it. 
She  introduced  at  the  end  a  wretched  air  with  varia- 
tions by  Proch,  which  acted  like  a  cold  linseed- 
poultice  on  the  last -finale,  and  bored  everybody  both 
in  the  house  and  on  the  stage.  Her  execution  of  the 
cavatina  was  very  limp,  and  though  a  few  extra  high 
notes  brought  the  house  down,  she  was  entirely  out 
of  her  element  in  the  opera.  We  had  an  importation 
in  the  shape  of  a  buffo  named  Bottero,  of  whom  great 
things  were  written  in  Italian  musical  journals  (no 
great  recommendation-  for  anyone  Avho  knew  lm\v 
they  were  compiled),  and  of  whom  I  heard  from  one 
who  ought  to  have  known  better  that  he  was  a  com- 
bination of  Luigi  Lablache  and  Giorgio  Ronconi 
under  one  skin  !  He  made  his  first  appearance  in  a 
trivial  work,  -  Don  Bucefalo,"  by  Cagnoni,  a  fifth- 
rate  Italian  composer.  The  audience  evidently  did 
not  agree  with  my  informant,  as  the  theatre  was  half 


298         REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SAN T LEY 

emptied  of  its  occupants  before  the  second  act  had 
nearly  approached  its  termination.  The  piece  was 
repeated  once,  and  withdrawn.  Signor  Bottero  sub- 
sequently essayed  the  part  of  the  Podesta  in  "  La 
Gazza  Ladra,"  with  Adelina  Patti,  Trebelli,  Bettini, 
and  myself.  I  never  saw  Lablache  on  the  stage, 
but  I  have  seen  Giorgio  Ronconi  play  this  part,  and 
certainly  did  not  discover  a  ghost  of  him  in  Signor 
Bottero.  He  soon  returned  to  his  native  heath. 

The  great  sensation  of  the  season  was  undoubtedly 
the  production  of  "  Hamlet,"  with  Nilsson  in  the 
character  of  Ophelia.  With  the  exception  of  the 
"  Brindisi,"  I  liked  the  part  of  Hamlet  very  much,  and 
took  great  pains  to  study  not  only  the  opera,  but  the 
drama.  The  costume  adopted  I  did  not  like,  nor 
could  I  procure  a  wig  of  the  colour  I  wished,  so  I  was 
not  at  all  satisfied  with  my  make-up.  Notwithstand- 
ing, I  had  the  satisfaction  of  being  complimented  on 
all  sides ;  I  met  Thomas  at  breakfast  the  morning 
after  the  first  performance,  who  thanked  me  very 
cordially  for  the  pains  I  had  taken  with  the  part,  ex- 
pressed himself  perfectly  satisfied  with  both  my  sing- 
ing and  acting,  adding  that  the  play  scene  had  never 
been  acted  so  well  before.  At  the  breakfast  I  was 
seated  between  two  members  of  the  press,  musical 
critics  both.  My  right-hand  neighbour,  in  the  course 
of  conversation,  remarked  "  that  I  was  a  very  lucky 
man."  I  wished  to  know  why.  He  replied,  "  Why  ? 
Imagine  you,  a  young  man  and  an  Englishman,  be- 
ing entrusted  with  the  part  of  Hamlet  at  the  Royal 


REMINISCENCES   OF   CHARLES   SAXTI.EY        299 

Italian  Opera!"  What  could  I  answer?  I  said.  ••  I 
do  not  quite  see  what  luck  has  to  do  with  it  :  do  you 
suppose  the  managers  or  the  composer  would  have 
entrusted  me  with  it  if  they  had  not  considered  I 
had  sufficient  ability  to  perform  it?"  Whilst  still  at 
the  table  my  left-hand  neighbour  happened  to  make 
a  remark  about  my  playing  the  last  scene  of  "  I  due 
Foscari  "  on  the  occasion  of  Nilsson's  benefit  at  Drury 
Lane  the  previous  season.  I  explained  to  him  that 
Mapleson  asked  me  to  sing  one  extra  night  that  week, 
as  he  wished  to  make  the  benefits  of  the  three  prima 
donnas  as  strong  as  possible.  After  a  moment's 
thought  I  agreed,  on  consideration  that  I  might  play 
the  final  scene  of  "I  due  Foscari."  Finding  that 
the  parts  were  in  the  theatre  and  the  chorus  knew  the 
music,  it  was  settled  I  should  do  it.  "It  was  a  fancy 
I  had  nursed  for  a  long  time,"  I  continued,  "although 
I  only  knew  the  opera  from  reading  it.  as  I  had  never 
seen  it  performed."  "Do  you  mean  to  say."  said  my 
neighbour,  "you  never  saw  Giorgio  Ronconi  play  the 
Doge?"  -No,"  I  replied.  "  nor  anyone  else.'"  "I 
am  sorry  I  did  not  know  that  before,"  he  remarked, 
"  or  I  would  have  said  a  great  deal  more  about  it ;  I 
thought  you  had  seen  Ronconi  in  it  more  than  once, 
and  were  giving  us  an  imitation  of  his  performance." 
I  felt  much  ilattered,  but  I  heartily  wished  he  had 
known  the  facts  before.  I  may  as  well  add  that  the 
morning  after  the  benefit  I  received  a  most  charming 
letter  from  the  Earl  of  Dudley,  in  which  he  said  that 
he  had  entered  the  theatre  as  the  scene  from  "  I  due 


300         REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SAXTLEY 

Foscari "  was  going  on,  and  not  distinguishing  who 
was  playing  the  Doge,  inquired  and  found  to  his 
astonishment  it  was  Santley.  He  expressed  himself 
highly  pleased  with  my  performance,  and  added  he 
hoped  Mr.  Mapleson  would  see  his  Avay  to  bring  out 
the  opera  the  following  season,  that  I  might  have  the 
opportunity  of  playing  the  part  in  its  integrity. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  season  1869  I  was  some- 
what indisposed  ;  I  had  been  working  too  hard  all  the 
winter,  and  during  our  operatic  season  in  Scotland 
after  Christmas  we  had  encountered  some  severe 
weather.  I  caught  a  cold  which  I  could  not  shake 
off  during  the  prevalence  of  east  wind  in  the  spring. 
However,  I  had  to  get  into  harness  as  soon  as  the 
opera  season  opened.  By  way  of  a  rest,  early  in  the 
month  of  May  I  accompanied  Arditi  to  Paris  to  hear 
"  Hamlet,"  and  get  an  idea  of  the  mise  en  scene.  The 
performance  was  very  fine.  The  success  was  attri- 
buted almost  entirely  to  Nilsson's  performance  of 
Ophelia,  with  which  I  did  not  agree.  Faure  was  an 
excellent  Hamlet,  and  I  am  certain  without  the  co- 
operation of  such  a  great  artiste,  the  representation, 
spite  of  Nilsson's  splendid  singing  in  the  mad  scene, 
would  have  been  exceedingly  dull.  I  was  very  much 
fidgeted  by  the  way  in  which  the  conductor  used  his 
fiddlestick ;  he  flourished  it  to  such  an  extent  that  at 
times  he  drew  my  attention  entirely  away  from  the 
stage.  I  was  very  much  amused  when  Arditi  turned 
to  me  during  the  interval  between  the  second  and 
third  acts,  and  exclaimed,  "  If  that  conductor  con- 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  S A  NT  LEY       301 

tinues  to  make  those  flourishes  with  his  stick  I  shall 
be  obliged  to  leave  the  theatre ;  I  cannot  pay  the 
slightest  attention  to  the  singers  ! "  We  attended  a 
performance  of  Wagner's  "  Rienzi  "  during  our  stay. 
It  was  splendidly  put  on  the  stage,  and  in  every  way 
an  excellent  performance.  Monjauze,  the  tenor  I 
have  already  spoken  of  in  connection  with  "Faust" 
the  first  time  I  heard  it,  played  Rienzi  finely.  But 
the  theatre  was  hot  and  stuffy,  and  I  did  not  feel  very 
well,  so  after  the  third  act  I  left  the  theatre  and  went 
for  a  drive  by  moonlight  in  the  Champs  Elysees,  which 
I  enjoyed  much  better  than  the  opera. 

On  our  return  we  had  hard  work  rehearsing  every 
dav.  and  I  had  three  or  four  performances  each  week  : 
during  that  in  which  "  Hamlet"  was  produced  on  ihe 
Saturday,  I  had  two  other  performances.  On  the 
Wednesday  we  had  a  full  rehearsal  of  the  new  opera 
from  eleven  until  nearly  four  ;  I  then  had  to  rush  off 
to  Kuhe's  concert,  where  I  sang  two  pieces  ;  and  in 
the  evening  I  had  to  play  Tom  Tug  in  the  ''  Water- 
man "  at  the  Adolphi  Theatre  for  the  benefit  of  the 
Misses  Harris,  daughters  of  Augustus  Harris,  the 
stage-manager.  I  felt  anything  but  fit  after  my 
morning's  work,  but  a  bottle  of  dry  champagne  with 
my  dinner,  a  good  cigar,  and  forty  winks,  restored 
me,  and  when  I  was  dressed  to  go  on  I  felt  as  fresh 
as  a  lark. 

I  had  the  great  pleasure  of  playing  Hoel  in  "Dino- 
rali "  with  Adelina  Patti.  an  opera  in  which  she  shone 
to  greater  advantage  than  in  any  other  i:i  which  I  have 


302         REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES   SAXTLEY 

seen  her.  We  rehearsed  the  stage  business  well ;  she 
was  the  only  prima  donna  I  have  known  who  did  not 
resent  interference  with  the  business  she  was  accus- 
tomed to.  I  suggested  that  a  little  more  or  much 
more  passion  would  be  a  great  improvement  when  she 
recovered  her  senses  in  the  last  act  and  recognized  her 
lover,  and  that  she  should  throw  herself  without  fear 
into  my  arms.  She  acted  on  my  suggestion,  and  the 
result  was  such  a  storm  of  applause  that  we  had  to 
wait  some  moments  before  we  could  proceed  with  the 
opera. 

Patti  was  very  anxious  to  have  "  L'Etoile  du  Nord  " 
reproduced,  as  Catarina  was  one  of  her  favourite  parts. 
She  wished  me  to  play  Peter,  which  I  would  have 
done  with  all  my  heart ;  but  after  the  hard  work  I 
had  done  and  the  pain  I  had  suffered,  it  being  late  in 
the  season,  I  was  obliged  to  decline ;  I  really  could 
not  have  studied  a  new  and  so  exigent  a  part  at  that 
time. 

Towards  the  close  of  the  season  I  played  "  Rigo- 
letto  "  for  the  only  time  with  Adelina  Patti,  on  the 
occasion  of  her  benefit,  Tambeiiik  playing  the  Duke. 

The  only  important  performance  for  me  beside  the 
opera  during  the  season  was  a  Rossini  festival  at  the 
Crystal  Palace  held  in  the  Transept,  with  a  chorus  and 
orchestra  numbering  about  3,000.  The  programme 
consisted  of  the  "  Stabat  Mater  "  and  a  selection  from 
Rossini's  works,  among  them  the  Blessing  of  the  Ban- 
ners from  "  The  Siege  of  Corinth,"  in  which  I  sang 
the  solo  part.  I  may  as  well  mention  the  fact,  as  I  am 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY        303 

certain  nobody  would  otherwise  be  aware  of  it,  as  I 
myself  could  not  hear  my  voice.  Costa,  who  had  been 
seriously  ill  for  a  little  time  and  confined  to  his  room, 
left  his  sick-bed  to  do  homage  to  the  master  he  loved. 
Though  he  was  not  in  a  fit  state  to  be  at  work,  he 
conducted  throughout  with  unflagging  spirit,  and 
never  more  emphatically  proved  himself  '•conductor 
of  conductors." 

Rossini's  "  Messe  Solennelle "  was  performed  for 
the  first  time  in  England  about  the  middle  of  May  —  I 
cannot  find  the  exact  date.  Tietjens,  Scalchi,  Mongini 
and  I  sang  the  solo  parts.  With  the  exception  of  the 
••  Kyrie  "  I  do  not  care  for  the  work,  and  it  made  very 
little  effect.  It  was  performed  at  the  Worcester 
festival  the  same  year,  and  occasionally  after,  but  was 
soon  all  but  lost  sight  of.  At  this  festival  Sullivan's 
"  Prodigal  Son,"  one  of  his  best  serious  works,  wa.s 
performed  for  the  first  time ;  Sullivan  himself  con- 
ducted. Nobody  who  heard  it  can  surely  ever  forget 
how  magnificently  Sims  Reeves  sang  the  scene,  "I 
will  arise  and  go  to  my  father"  —  a  sort  of  thing  one 
hears  once  in  a  lifetime. 

Returning  from  this  festival,  I  and  some  of  my  com- 
rades had  a  narrow  escape.  The  train  started  from 
Worcester  about  three-quarters  of  an  hour  late,  in  con- 
sequence of  the  railway  officials  having  neglected  to 
provide  sufficient  accommodation  for  the  unusually 
large  number  of  people  returning  to  London.  On  the 
road  we  lost  more  time  ;  and  as  we  were  nearing  Lon- 
don we  were  almost  an  hour  and  a  half  behind  time. 


304         KEMfXISCEXCES    OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

The  engine-driver  had  just  slackened  speed  to  enter 
Westbourne  Park  Station  when  he  became  aware  of  a 
train,  heedless  of  signals,  coming  on  to  cross  our  line, 
lie  put  on  full  speed,  hoping  to  clear  the  other  train, 
but  to  no  purpose  ;  it  came  on  and  struck  ours  just  in 
the  middle,  smashing  a  luggage-van  immediately  in 
front  of  the  coach  I  and  my  companions  occupied, 
which  was  thrown  off  the  lines  and  ran  for  a  short  dis- 
tance bouncing  over  the  sleepers.  Looking  out,  the 
first  thing  I  saw  was  a  shower  of  musical  instrument 
cases,  among  them  a  double  bass.  The  doors  were 
jammed  with  the  concussion,  so  we  scrambled  out  of 
the  windows.  The  coaches  in  front  were  lying  upside 
down.  I  asked  an  official  who  came  by  how  the  acci- 
dent had  happened,  but  the  only  reply  I  received  was, 
"Have  you  got  your  ticket?"  I  went  on  to  the  sta- 
tion, where  I  heard  the  guard  was  seriously  hurt,  and 
having  his  wounds  dressed  in  the  waiting-room.  I 
popped  my  head  in  at  the  door  and  asked  the  surgeon 
who  was  attending  on  him  if  he  was  badly  hurt.  The 
doctor  turned  round,  and  after  a  glance  called,  "Is  that 
you,  man  ?  Are  ye  hurt  ?  "  I  recognized  in  him  a 
calico  printer  I  had  known  in  Glasgow.  "  No,"  said 
I,  "thank  God  !  "  "  Then  go  to  your  carriage,  and  I 
will  come  to  you  presently."  In  a  few  minutes  he 
came  up  and  begged  of  me  to  keep  myself  within 
doors  for  a  couple  of  weeks  and  he  would  get  me 
XI, 000  damages.  I  replied  that  I  was  thankful  to 
be  unhurt,  and  preferred  going  to  Norwich,  where  I 
was  due  the  next  week,  and  earn  my  money  doing 
my  duty. 


KE.-\fL\~ISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SAffTLEY        305 

At  Norwich  we  performed  a  selection  from  an 
oratorio  called  "  Hezekiah,"  by  Hugo  Pierson  —  vt-rv 
dry  stuff  indeed  —  of  which  I  never  heard  any  more; 
also  Rossini's  "Messe  Solennelle,"  which  did  not 
rouse  any  enthusiasm. 

We  played  "Hamlet"  on  the  operatic  tour  "which 
succeeded,  in  Manchester  and  Liverpool,  and  also 
in  London,  during  the  short  season,  with  lima  di 
Murska  as  Ophelia.  She  did  not  sing  the  music  as 
well  as  Xilsson ;  otherwise  there  was  little  difference 
between  the  two  representations.  I  had  my  own 
dress  (a  facsimile  of  FechterV)  and  make-up,  which 
not  only  improved  my  appearance,  but,  feeling  I 
looked  more  like  Hamlet,  I  am  sure  I  played  better. 
One  great  improvement  was  the  substitution  of  Carl 
Formes  as  the  Ghost  for  the  buffo  who  essayed  it  on 
the  first  production  of  the  opera. 

The  year  1870  was  the  last  year  of  my  connection 
with  the  Italian  opera  in  England  —  it  marks  an 
epoch  in  my  life  which  I  have  ever  since  looked 
back  on  with  regret.  My  ambition  and  delight  were 
the  stage ;  the  concert-room,  save  under  exceptional 
circumstances,  had  little  attraction  for  me.  I  believe 
I  would  have  preferred  being  an  actor  of  moderate 
fame  to  being  the  most  renowned  singer  on  earth.  I 
worked  during  the  four  seasons  of  English  opera  and 
nine  years  of  Italian  opera  with  an  object  in  view, 
and  if  I  did  not  become  a  consummate  actor  I  earned 
fame  even  in  that  capacity.  Often  I  think  now, 
when  T  have  an  hour  and  a  half  to  wait  between  two 


306        REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

songs,  having  no  relation  to  each  other,  in  a  miscel- 
laneous concert,  how  much  more  satisfying  it  was  to 
have  to  embody  a  part,  and  to  have  my  attention 
riveted  throughout  the  evening  on  the  delineation  of 
a  character  I  was  representing. 

The  beginning  of  the  year  seemed  to  be  prophetic ; 
I  made  my  first  appearance  at  the  London  ballad 
concerts,  and  also  sang  at  a  series  called  the  Exeter 
Hall  Saturday  Evening  Concerts,  under  the  manage- 
ment of  Mr.  George  Wood.  A  concert  tour  was 
arranged  in  my  name  by  this  gentleman  from  the 
end  of  January  for  about  six  weeks,  and  my  com- 
panions were  Madame  Sinico,  Miss  Helen  D'Alton, 
Wilhelmj,  and  Arabella  Goddard,  with  Sidney  Xaylor 
as  accompanist.  I  know  nothing  of  the  business 
part,  but  I  believe  the  tour  was  fairly  successful. 
I  had  two  genial  companions  in  Wilhelmj  and  Nay- 
lor,  and  the  time  passed  more  pleasantly  than  I 
anticipated.  Concert  touring  I  always  found  exceed- 
ingly disagreeable  after  the  novelty  of  the  first  few 
days  had  passed.  A  journey  every  day.  Sunday  in- 
cluded very  often  ;  the  same  dinner  day  after  day 
(on  one  tour  nine  times  out  of  ten  it  consisted  of 
bad  soup,  fish,  a  saddle  of  mutton  indifferently 
roasted,  and  a  pair  of  boiled  fowls  buried  in  a  mass 
of  bookbinder's  paste) ;  the  same  programme  to  go 
through  every  evening,  and  a  different  bed  to  sleep 
in  each  night.  The  monotony  is  appalling,  yet  I 
have  known  artists  who  say  they  enjoy  such  a  life.  I 
do  not ;  I  abhor  it,  and  always  did.  The  only  relief 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY       307 

from  the  daily  routine  was  when  little  scenes  of 
jealousy  arose  about  encores,  or  some  such  subject, 
and  they  were  not  a  pleasant  change.  On  one  of 
the  first  evenings  we  had  a  scene  with  Wilhelmj  and 
Madame  Goddard  :  they  played  one  of  Beethoven's 
sonatas,  which,  being  long,  Wilhelmj  suggested  might 
be  cut,  as  it  was  usually.  Madame  Goddard  would 
not  consent  to  cutting  anything  of  Beethoven,  but 
insisted  on  playing  the  last  movement  at  a  speed 
which  did  not  at  all  accord  with  Wilhelmj's  notion. 
At  the  end  of  the  sonata  he  came  down  off  the 
orchestra  in  despair,  and  cried  like  a  child.  To  end 
the  dispute  the  cuts  were  made  and  the  movement 
played  at  a  proper  speed. 

Towards  the  end  of  the  tour  we  went  to  Ireland. 
Madame  Goddard  objected  to  crossing  the  channel,  so 
Ernst  Pauer  was  engaged  to  take  her  place.  In  Dublin 
and  Belfast  everybody  was  perfectly  satisfied,  but  in 
Cork,  where  I  fancy  they  had  omitted  to  make  a  proper 
announcement  of  the  change,  there  was  quite  a  hubbub 
when,  instead  of  an  elegant  female  form,  a  tall,  gaunt- 
looking  male  appeared  and  sat  down  at  the  piano. 
The  disturbance  continued  for  some  time,  but  was 
stopped  at  last,  if  I  remember  rightly,  by  our  genial 
manager.  Edward  Murray,  stepping  forward  to  explain 
why  the  change  was  necessary.  During  the  interval 
between  the  two  parts  of  the  concert  Miss  Helen 
D'Alton  was  presented  with  a  handsome  testimonial 
in  the  shape  of  a  necklace,  brooch,  and  earrings,  as  a 
token  of  the  esteem  and  admiration  in  which  she  was 


308        REMINISCENCES    OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

held  by  her  fellow  citizens.  She  was  a  native  of  Cork, 
of  which  city  her  father  had  served  as  Mayor.  The 
testimonial  was  presented  by  the  then  Mayor,  who  was 
requested  by  the  gallery  boys  to  "  spake  up."  I  re- 
plied for  Miss  D'Alton ;  my  speech  having  been  pro- 
vided for  me,  I  had  merely  to  read  it,  which  I  did 
without  any  shyness  or  nervousness,  and  evidently  to 
the  satisfaction  of  the  audience,  as  they  gave  me  a 
tremendous  round  of  applause  at  the  end,  with  an 
accompaniment  of  "  Bravo,  Santley  !  " 

From  Ireland  we  crossed  over  to  Scotland  to  com- 
mence an  operatic  tour.  Among  the  soprani  we  had 
Mile.  Monbelli  and  Mile.  Reboux,  both  French,  the 
former  an  elegant  and  accomplished  lady  and  a  charm- 
ing singer,  possessing  good  qualities  as  an  actress, 
although  lacking  experience  sufficient  to  develop  her 
intentions.  Except  Madame  Viardot  I  never  heard 
anyone  who  sang  Spanish  songs  so  well.  Of  Mile. 
Reboux,  who  sang  the  small  part  of  Vincenette  in 
"Mireille"  at  Her  Majesty's  Theatre  in  1864,  I 
recollect  little,  except  that  I  did  not  find  her  a  great 
acquisition.  We  had  also  a  new  contralto,  Mile. 
Morensi,  a  handsome  American,  who  played  Zerlina 
to  my  Don  Giovanni.  She  was  so  tall  I  felt  like  a 
pigmy,  and  suggested  in  our  scenes  together,  Leporello 
might  attend  with  a  step-ladder  to  enable  me  to  put 
myself  on  a  level  with  her. 

After  Scotland  we  played  in  Liverpool  at  the  old 
Amphitheatre,  one  of  the  best  theatres  for  sound  I 
have  sung  in ;  its  perfect  acoustic  properties  must 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY       309 

have  been  quite  accidental.  I  believe  it  was  run  up 
in  about  six  weeks  in  order  to  hold  a  great  political 
meeting.  In  my  youthful  days  it  was  the  home  of 
John  Vandenhoff,  Gustavus  Brooke,  Barry  Sullivan, 
and  other  celebrated  actors  under  the  management 
of  W.  R.  Copeland.  I  have  already  mentioned  it 
was  my  first  theatre  where  I  was  taken  to  see  Du- 
crow's  circus.  It  was  here  that  Walter  Lacy  made 
his  first  appearance  riding  on  an  elephant's  trunk  in 
"  Blue  Beard."  A  similar  accident  occurred  to  Van- 
denhoff at  one  of  his  benefits  when  he  was  playing 
Brutus  in  "  Julius  Caesar."  as  that  I  have  related 
happened  to  me  during  a  performance  of  the  "Bohe- 
mian Girl.'"  As  he  commenced  the  speech.  ••  Romans. 
countrymen  and  lovers,"  a  goat  which  used  to  be 
kept  in  the  stable  belonging  to  the  theatre  marched 
gravely  on  to  the  stage  and  planted  itself  between 
his  legs  facing  the  audience,  and  there  remained 
apparently  wrapt  in  admiration  until  the  speech  was 
finished,  when  it  took  itself  off  as  gravely  as  it 
entered. 


CHAPTER   XX 

Mr.  George  Wood  undertakes  Italian  Opera  at  Drury  Lane  —  The 
"Flying  Dutchman"  ;  First  Representation  of  Wagner  in  Eng- 
land—  An  Obtrusive  Cat  —  I  desert  Italian  for  English  Opera  — 
We  start  with  "  Zampa  "  —  Broken  Promises  —  Friendly  Critics 
—  A  Season  of  Death  —  Friendship  with  Charles  Dickens  — » 
Fechter's  Misfortunes  —  Trial  of  the  Albert  Hall  —  Stage  v, 
Platform. 

THE  Royal  Italian  Opera,  Covent  Garden,  opened 
on  March  29,  still  under  the  joint  management  of 
Messrs.  Gye  and  Mapleson.  With  the  exception  of 
Tietjens  all  Mr.  Mapleson's  old  company  were  en- 
gaged by  Mr.  George  Wood,  who  undertook  the 
management  of  an  Italian  opera  at  Drury  Lane. 
The  announcement  of  both  operas  appeared  in  the 
same  number  of  the  Musical  World.  In  addition  to 
the  company  we  had  on  the  tour,  the  engagements 
were  announced  of  Madame  Volpini  (from  the  Im- 
perial Opera,  St.  Petersburg),  already  a  favourite  in 
London  in  1864;  Mile.  Savertal  (from  the  opera, 
Pisa),  who  did  not  appear ;  and  Mile.  Pauline  Le- 
witsky,  a  Russian,  who  did  appear,  a  graceful  girl 
and  pretty  singer,  and  nothing  more.  The  novelties 
produced  were  Ambroise  Thomas's  "  Mignon,"  in 

which  I  hoped  to  have  played  Lothario,  as  Thomas 
310 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY        311 

expressed  himself  so  satisfied  with  me  in  "  Hamlet "  ; 
but  for  some  reason  Faure  was  engaged  at  the  last 
moment,  and  the  part  was  given  to  him.  I  did  not 
admire  Xilsson  as  Mignon.  She  sang  exceedingly 
well,  and  acted  a  great  deal  and  looked  much  more 
like  a  boy.  when  dressed  in  male  attire,  than  she  did 
when  she  tried  Cherubino.  Some  of  her  scenes  were 
very  charming,  but  the  /<•"  xn<-r*'  necessary  to  repre- 
sent Mignon  was  wanting.  It  was  a  great  mistake 
to  give  the  part  of  Federico  to  a  woman :  it  upset 
the  concerted  music,  and  did  not  add  to  the  interest 
of  the  performance. 

The  "  Flying  Dutchman,"  the  first  opera  of  Wagner 
produced  in  England,  was  not  brought  out  until  ten 
days  lie  fore  the  close  of  the  season.  I  thought  it 
was  going  to  be  shelved,  and  I  was  anxious  to  play 
Vanderdecken,  as  I  felt  sure  it  was  a  part  whieli 
would  suit  me  well.  I  found  lima  <li  Murska,  who 
was  to  be  the  Senta.  was  partly  the  cause  of  the 
delay,  so  I  asked  her  plainly  where  her  objection 
lav.  and  after  a  little  beating  about  the  bush  she 
said  because  it  was  all  Flying  Dutchman,  while 
Scuta  was  nobody.  I  told  her  she  was  wrong,  that 
Senta  was  of  quite  as  much  importance  as  the 
Dutchman,  for  without  Senta  certainly  lie  would  be 
nobody.  She  afterwards  altered  her  mind  when  she 
came  to  look  into  the  part,  and  we  worked  together 
very  earnestly  at  all  the  st-i^v  business.  The  audi- 
ence from  their  applause  showed  they  enjoyed  the 
performance.  Wagner,  however,  failed  to  attract 


312        REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

the  public.  We  only  played  it  two  or  three  nights, 
and  to  very  poor  houses.  I  had  another  adventure 
with  an  animal,  this  time  a  cat,  on  the  first  night.  I 
had  finished  my  opening  scene,  and  was  leaning  on  a 
piece  of  rock  waiting  for  Daland  to  make  his  entry, 
when  I  heard  a  sound  of  "  Ts  !  Ts  !  "  behind  me.  I 
looked  out  of  the  corner  of  my  eye,  and  espied  a  cat 
stealthily  crossing  the  stage.  Instead  of  leaving  her 
to  go  on  her  way,  one  of  the  men  in  the  boat  was  try- 
ing to  send  her  back.  Being  very  tame  and  knowing 
all  the  people  belonging  to  the  theatre,  she  stopped 
to  see  who  was  calling  her.  I  was  in  dread,  for  I 
knew  that  if  the  public  saw  her,  she  would  attract  all 
their  attention  and  the  rest  of  the  act  would  go  for 
nothing.  It  does  not  matter  how  interesting  a  scene 
on  the  stage  may  be,  a  song  or  solo  in  a  concert,  a 
speech  or  a  sermon ;  a  cat  or  a  dog,  or  even  a  mouse, 
appearing  unexpectedly  will  carry  away  the  attention 
of  the  entire  audience.  To  my  great  joy  the  cat 
did  not  recognize  a  friend  in  the  boatman,  so  went 
quietly  off.  I  spoke  about  the  carelessness  of  allow- 
ing a  cat  to  wander  about  the  stage  during  a  perform- 
ance ;  but  I  was  told  she  was  only  looking  for  her 
customary  supply  of  milk  —  and  the  first  act  of  the 
opera  might  have  been  ruined  in  consequence.  lima 
di  Murska  was  better  suited  with  the  part  of  Senta 
than  with  any  part  I  saw  her  play.  She  looked  it  to 
perfection,  the  weird,  earnest,  yet  dreamy,  expression 
on  her  face  denoted  a  spirit  ready  to  make  the  sacri- 
fice that  was  to  be  demanded  of  her  —  to  give  her 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY       313 

life  to  save  the  soul  of  the  unhappy  man,  whose  curse 
it  was  to  wander  until  he  should  find  a  being  capable 
of  such  a  sacrifice.  She  acknowledged  the  mistake 
she  had  at  first  made,  and  played  with  an  energy  and 
spirit  I  had  never  before  seen  her  display. 

••  L'Oea  del  Cairo  "  (Mozart)  and  "  Abou  Hassan  " 
(Weber),  two  comic  operas,  each  in  one  act,  were 
produced  together.  They  are  both  pretty,  but  weiv 
not  seen  to  advantage  in  so  large  a  theatre,  and  made 
very  little  effect.  For  the  second  time  in  my  oper- 
atic experience  I  was  announced  to  play  Macbeth  in 
Verdi's  opera,  this  time  with  Mile.  Savertal,  but,  as 
\  before  said,  Mile.  Savertal  did  not  arrive,  and  noth- 
ing was  heard  of  the  opera.  Cherubini's  "  Les  deux 
journe'es"  was  also  promised,  with  the  dialogue  set 
to  accompanied  recitative  by  Signer  Arditi.  I  was 
very  glad  it  was  not  performed ;  it  is  not,  properly 
speaking,  an  opera,  but  a  drama  with  incidental 
music  ;  and  I  am  certain,  however  compressed  the 
dialogue  might  be  —  as  it  is  the  principal  part  of  the 
work  —  and  however  well  set,  the  result  would  have 
been  a  vei  v  heavy,  tiresome  performance.  Rossini's 
'•  Tancredi  "  was  promised,  but  not  performed. 

At  the  termination  of  the  season  I  was  asked  to 
accept  an  engagement  for  the  following  year  at  the 
Italian  opera,  under  the  joint  management  of  Me 
Gye  and  Mapleson.  The  loss  on  the  season  at  Drury 
Lane  had  been  such  that  Mr.  George  Wood  gave  up 
the  idea  of  carrying  on  his  management,  but  I  did 
not  like  changing  about  from  one  company  to  another, 


314         REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTI.f-.Y 

and  overtures  had  been  made  to  me  to  appear  in 
English  opera  at  the  Gaiety  Theatre,  which,  on  my 
consenting,  would  be  changed  into  a  lyric  theatre 
entirely.  I  fancied  the  reputation  and  position  I 
had  gained  at  the  Italian  opera  would  be  sufficient 
to  make  my  name  a  solid  attraction,  an<^  in  combi- 
nation with  as  good  a  company  as  could  be  got 
together,  an  attractive  opera,  good  orchestra  and 
chorus,  and  proper  stage  management,  I  would  have 
an  opportunity  to  establish  a  permanent  home  for 
opera  in  England.  My  wife  and  most  of  my  friends 
endeavoured  to  dissuade  me  from  quitting  the  Italian 
opera ;  but  obstinacy  and,  I  must  candidly  confess., 
a  certain  amount  of  vanity  prevailed,  and  I  entered 
into  an  engagement  to  appear  at  the  Gaiety  Theatre 
in  the  month  of  September  following.  The  band 
of  the  theatre  was  not  sufficient  for  the  requirements 
of  an  opera ;  there  were  not  sufficient  strings,  and  the 
wind,  especially  the  "  wood,"  was  incomplete.  I  had 
a  promise  that  all  this  should  be  remedied.  The 
chorus  consisted  chiefly  of  young  fresh  voices,  and 
I  was  satisfied  that  with  the  attention  Meyer  Lutz, 
the  conductor,  would  bestow  on  it,  there  would  be 
little  left  to  desire.  The  mise  en  Ww  and  dressing 
I  had  no  doubt  about.  But  the  greatest  difficulty  of 
all  had  to  be  overcome :  what  opera  were  we  to  pro- 
duce ?  Suggestion  after  suggestion  was  made,  each 
of  which  for  one  reason  or  other  was  abandoned.  At 
last  I  recollected  what  Balfe  had  told  me  some  years 
before,  that  if  ever  I  could  find  an  opportunity  to 


REMINISCENCES    OF  CHARLES  SANTI.EY        315 

play  'l  Zampa"  not  to  miss  it,  as  the  part  would  suit 
me  perfectly,  and  the  music  also  with  very  little 
transposition.  It  was  written  for  Chollet,  a  tenor. 
or,  I  fancy,  a  sort  of  baritone  with  a  powerful  fal- 
setto, as  no  pure  tenor  could  have  reached  the  low 
notes  written  in  the  part. 

For  my  holiday  1  went  to  Jersey  with  my  friend 
Lyall.  I  took  with  me  the  score  of  ••  Zampa,"  and 
was  convinced  if  well  put  on  the  stage  it  would 
prove  attractive.  When  I  returned  there  were  only 
three  weeks  left  before  the  production  of  the  opera  ; 
I  had  not  seen  a  word  of  the  translation,  and  at  last 
when  I  did,  I  found  the  words  had  been  translated 
without  any  regard  to  the  musical  accent,  and  that 
it  would  be  impossible  to  make  use  of  them,  so  I 
set  to  work  and  retranslated  the  whole  of  my  part 
and  the  scenes  in  which  I  was  concerned.  The 
dialogue  I  did  not  like,  and  I  re-adapted  that  also. 
The  rehearsals  began  and  went  on  vigorously,  for, 
with  one  exception,  I  found  my  companions  as  x.i-al- 
ous  and  earnest  as  myself;  we  rehearsed  the  greater 
part  of  the  day,  and  at  night,  after  studying  my  part, 
I  went  on  with  the  translation  of  what  we  had  still 
to  rehearse  —  a  serious  task  for  me,  as  I  am  very 
slow  at  such  work.  When  we  came  to  the  orchestral 
rehearsal,  I  found  that  the  promises  made  me  hud  not 
been  kept ;  the  band,  with  the  exception  of  a  change 
of  'cello  and  one  or  two  additional  violins,  was  the 
same  as  before.  I  expostulated  in  vain.  It  was  too 
late  to  retract,  or  I  would  have  left  the  theatre. 


316        XEMLYISCE.VCES    OF  CHARLES  SAXTLEY 

Lutz  had  done  his  best  (and  that  is  saying  a  great 
deal)  to  remedy  the  deficiencies  in  the  wind  depart- 
ment ;  he  was  very  vigilant,  and  made  everything 
go,  as  far  as  the  means  at  his  command  would  per- 
mit, to  my  satisfaction.  The  opera  was  successful, 
thanks  to  the  efforts  of  all  concerned.  I  felt  espe- 
cially grateful  to  Madame  Lancia,  who  undertook 
llu-  part  of  Camilla,  one  of  the  most  ungrateful  parts 
for  a  prhna  donna  I  know,  and  played  it  with  as 
much  earnestness  and  ability  as  though  it  had  been 
one  of  the  most  sympathetic.  We  played  "  Zampa  " 
for  nine  weeks  in  succession.  The  manager  was 
anxious  to  make  a  change,  as  there  were  no  rehear- 
sals going  on,  a  thing  he  did  not  seem  to  understand. 
I  asked  what  he  had  an  idea  of  doing.  "  Don  Gio- 
vanni." "Oh,  indeed!"  I  said  ;  u  and  who  are  your 
singers?"  Amongst  the  ladies  he  mentioned  t\vo 
who  were  little  better,  if  any,  than  music-hall  sing- 
ers. I  wanted  to  know  then  who  was  to  play  "  Don 
Giovanni.1'  "  Why,  you  of  course."  "  No,"  I  said, 
"I  do  not.  If  you  want  me  to  play  'Don  Giovanni,' 
you  must  engage  three  lady  singers  of  whom  I  ap- 
prove, and  you  must  have  a  better  orchestra,  and 
you  must  have  the  opera  properly  translated,  as  I 
decline .  adopting  any  translation  I  have  yet  seen." 
He  talked  about  managerial  authority,  etc.  I  replied, 
being  master  of  the  situation,  that  I  intended  to 
maintain  my  position.  After  some  discussion,  it  was 
ultimately  agreed  we  were  to  produce  k>  Fra  Diavolo," 
in  which  I  was  to  play  the  hero.  It  was  brought  out 


XEMIXISCEX'CES   OF  CHARLES   S.I  XT  LEY        317 

a  week  or  two  before  Christinas.  I  endeavoured  to 
make  the  part  quite  the  opposite  to  Zampa.  Zampa, 
according  to  the  story,  was  a  gentleman  of  ;i  roving, 
unsettled,  wild  disposition,  whilst  Fra  Diavolo  was 
nothing  more  nor  less  than  a  common  vulgar  thief, 
whose  Brummagen  airs  of  gentility  Avere  the  very 
'thing  to  captivate  a  silly,  empty-pated,  vain  huh'  like 
Lady  Allcash.  I  have  no  idea  what  success,  if  any, 
I  made  in  the  part  :  I  never  read  a  line  about  it.  and 
two  opinions  I  had  from  friends  were  so  contrary  that 
from  them  I  could  not  judge.  One.  a  Dublin  friend, 
recommended  me  never  to  attempt  Fra  Diavolo  again. 
Another,  a  (ierman,  told  me  he  had  seen  every 
notable  Fra  Diavolo  in  his  time,  and  he  had  never 
seen  anyone  who  represented  the  character  as  well 
as  I  did.  Those,  if  any  live,  who  saw  it  can  judge 
for  themselves  :  those  who  did  not  must  regret  or 
rejoice  as  they  think  proper.  The  theatre  was  closed 

on   Christmas   K\< a    Saturday.      The   five  nights 

preceding  of  the  same  week,  in  addition  to  "  Fra 
Diavolo''  I  played  Tom  Tug  in  "  The  Waterman  " 
as  an  after-piece,  and  right  glad  I  was  when  Christmas 
F\  6  arrived,  and  1  was  five. 

Henvecn  the  end  of  the  Italian  opera  season  and 
my  holiday  there  were  the  Hereford  festival,  of  which 
nothing  particular  need  be  said,  and  the  Birmingham 
festival  in  the  succeeding  week.  Of  the  new  music 
1  took  part  in  was  a  cantata  by  Dr.  Ferdinand  Hiller, 
••Nala  and  Damayanti,"  to  my  taste  a  very  heavy 
work;  it  was  of  the  numerous  compositions  of  the 


318         REMINISCENCES    OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

same  class  which  I  had  all  the  trouble  of  learning 
and  rehearsing  for  a  single  performance.  I  never 
heard  of  it  again.  I  also  took  the  part  of  St.  Peter 
in  Benedict's  oratorio,  about  which  there  was  a  great 
deal  of  unamiable  correspondence  published  in  the 
Musical  World.  It  was  a  very  unequal  work,  not 
to  be  compared  with  his  last  opera,  "  The  Lily  of 
Killarney."  The  libretto  was  poor,  and  a  great  por- 
tion of  the  music  written  in  a  hurry,  the  result  being 
an  uninteresting  composition.  With  the  exception 
of  an  air,  "  Oh  that  my  head  were  water ! "  I  did 
not  feel  interested  in  my  part.  The  scene  of  the 
"  denial,"  which  might  be  made  an  effective  scene, 
I  was  quite  disappointed  with,  it  was  so  insignificant. 
The  oratorio  was  performed  a  few  times  during  the 
succeeding  winter  season,  but  has  rarely  been  heard 
of  since. 

I  cannot  help  noticing  the  number  of  deaths  which 
occurred  this  year  of  celebrated  people  connected 
with  music  and  the  drama.  Leigh  Murray,  the  best 
"jeune  premier"  of  his  time,  in  January;  George 
Hogarth,  Charles  Dickens's  father-in-law,  many  years 
musical  critic  of  the  Daily  News,  in  February;  Mary 
Keeley  (Mrs.  Albert  Smith),  in  April;  Charles  Green, 
the  aeronaut,  in  the  same  month ;  Charles  Dickens, 
on  the  9th  of  June ;  John  Cooper,  said  to  be  the  last 
actor  of  the  Kemble  school,  and  R.  K.  Bowley,  a 
leading  man  in  the  Sacred  Harmonic  Society,  and 
for  some  years  preceding  his  death  manager  of  the 
Crystal  Palace,  in  August ;  M.  W.  Balfe  on  October 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  S A  XT  LEY        319 

the  21st;  and  Adolfo  Ferrari,  a  well-known  professor 
of  singing,  on  the  "27th  of  December. 

I  was  much  grieved  at  the  death  of  Charles  Dick- 
ens, for  our  intimacy  h;id  ripened,  and  I  was  on  the 
eve  of  enjoying  his  hospitality  as  a  domestic  friend 
at  Gad's  Hill.  From  our  first  meeting  I  fancied  he 
had  a  liking  for  me  ;  he  always  had  a  kind,  encour- 
aging word  to  say  to  me.  Our  friendship  reached 
the  point  of  intimacy  through  the  misfortunes  of  a 
mutual  friend  —  Charles  Fechter,  the  celebrated  actor, 
who  after  several  brilliant  seasons  suffered  the  re- 
verses consequent  upon  making  artistic  merit  the 
M>le  means  of  attracting  the  public.  Without  speak- 
ing of  him  as  an  actor,  no  man  in  my  time  lias  ever 
clothed  the  pieces  he  produced  with  such  artistic 
effect  as  he  did.  Each  piece  was  a  perfect  picture, 
of  which  he  himself  formed  the  bright  centre,  shed- 
ding such  light  upon  his  fellow  workers  that  they 
developed  powers  which  before  they  had  never  been 
deemed  capable  of.  I  will  only  instance  one  play, 
"Hamlet,"  as  he  produced  it  at  the  Lyceum.  It  was 
a  masterpiece  of  acting  and  stage  management.  He 
made  a  large  sum  of  money  by  his  earlier  productions 
at  that  theatre,  which  he  spent  on  remodelling  and 
rebuilding  the  stage  ;  but  the  public  require  some- 
thing they  have  a  capacity  to  appreciate,  which  is  not 
artistic  excellence,  and  little  by  little  they  abandoned 
Fechter,  until  he  found  himself  in  difficulties.  He 
made  a  very  fine  engagement  for  the  United  States, 
but  he  could  not  leave  England  without  settling 


320        REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

certain  imperative  claims.  Then  it  was  that,  being 
aware  of  my  intimacy  with  Fechter,  Dickens  asked 
me  to  join  him  in  supplying  Fechter  with  the  means 
of  satisfying  those  claims.  We  each  advanced  him 
five  hundred  pounds,  which  was  repaid  in  a  short  time 
after  he  had  entered  on  his  engagement  in  the  States. 
I  met  Dickens  one  morning  in  Manchester,  as  he 
was  leaving  the  Free  Trade  Hall,  where  he  had  been 
arranging  the  platform  for  his  reading;  we  had  a 
little  commonplace  chat  and  parted.  About  two 
years  after  I  was  at  a  musical  party  at  his  house, 
opposite  the  Marble  Arch ;  I  arrived  very  early,  and 
found  him  and  G.  Dolby  only.  I  had  grown  much 
thinner  since  the  last  time  we  met,  and  he  inquired 
if  I  was  preparing  to  come  out  as  Romeo,  and,  "  By- 
the-bye,"  said  he,  "  what  has  become  of  that  heavy 
chain  you  wore  last  time  I  saw  you?  Oh,  I  know, 
Dolby,  now  he  has  grown  so  thin  he's  afraid  of  the 
weight  overbalancing  him." 

I  cannot  recollect  the  precise  date,  but  it  was  dur- 
ing the  season  at_the  Gaiety,  at  Boucicault's  request, 
I  accompanied  him  and  Benedict  to  the  Albert  Hall, 
which  was  then  nearly  completed,  as  lie  was  desirous 
of  testing  its  acoustic  properties.  I  sang  a  couple  of 
pieces  whilst  he  roamed  about  from  one  part  of  the 
building  to  another,  to  test  it  from  various  points. 
Benedict  afterwards  played  a  couple  of  pieces  on  the 
piano,  when  I  joined  Boucicault  in  the  auditorium, 
and  we  both  came  to  the  conclusion  that  it  was  not 
a  good  room  for  sound.  The  opening,  at  which  her 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  S.l.VTI.KY       321 

Majesty  was  present,  took  place  in  April,  1871,  when 
our  judgment  was  verified.  I  was  engaged  for  the 
Gaiety,  to  open  as  soon  as  the  Christmas  burlesque 
was  withdrawn  :  the  new  work  chosen  was  Lortz- 
ing's  "  Czar  und  Zimmerman,"  christened  in  English 
"  Peter  the  Shipwright  "  ;  as  it  was  deemed  wiser  to 
keep  this  back  until  Easter,  we  played  "  Fra  Dia- 
volo "  for  three  weeks,  rehearsing  the  new  opera 
during  the  day.  Madame  Lancia  could  not  return, 
as  she  had  a  prior  engagement  for  a  tour  in  the 
provinces,  so  Madame  Blanche  Cole  was  engaged  to 
replace  her.  She  lacked  the  warmth  and  earnestness 
of  her  predecessor ;  but  with  a  fresh  voice,  well  culti- 
vated, and  the  graceful  naive  manner  in  which  she 
played  Zerlina  in  4i  Fra  Diavolo,"  and  Maria  in 
"  Peter  the  Shipwright,"  she  proved  an  attractive 
acquisition  to  our  company.  Lortzing's  opera  ran 
for  some  weeks.  I  began  to  feel  the  strain  of  sing- 
ing every  night  the  same  piece,  and,  to  make  matters 
worse,  I  took  cold,  which,  having  to  continue  sing- 
ing, I  could  not  throw  off.  I  was  glad,  however,  of 
a  real  excuse  for  bringing  the  season  to  a  close,  for 
I  was  thoroughly  disappointed  ;  as  far  as  I  could  see, 
my  attempt  at  assisting  to  make  a  home  for  opera  in 
my  native  tongue  was  totally  unsuccessful.  I  sacri- 
ficed money,  as .  during  the  same  period  I  could  have 
earned  double  the  sum  I  was  paid  at  the  theatre  by 
singing  at  concerts.  I  sacrificed  health  to  a  certain 
extent ;  the  atmosphere  of  a  dressing-room  under  the 
stage,  without  ventilation,  and  the  dreary  monotony 


322        REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

of  going  on  the  treadmill  every  night,  disposed  or 
indisposed,  told  on  me.  I  was  glad  at  Christmas, 
when  I  was  released  from  my  toil ;  but  now  I  rejoiced, 
as  I  had  no  intention  of  returning  to  it  any  more. 

I  tried  hard  to  induce  the  management  to  produce 
Auber's  "  Le  Cheval  de  Bronze."  There  are  many 
of  the  operas  belonging  to  the  "  ope"ra  comique " 
repertoire  which  I  feel  sure  would  even  now  attract 
the  British  public  provided  they  were  translated 
decently  and  elegantly  put  on  the  stage.  Nor  would 
it  be  necessary  to  have  a  band  of  ninety  performers, 
as  the  music  depends  on  the  singers,  who  would  con- 
sequently have  to  be  heard.  At  that  time  there 
would  have  been  little  difficulty  in  establishing  a 
lyric  theatre  attractive  to  the  public  and  remunera- 
tive to  the  management.  The  opportunity  wras  lost, 
and  has  never  been  recovered.  English  people  do 
not  care  for  "  grand  opera  "  in  their  own  language, 
although  a  round  sum  of  money  was  made  by  Balfe's 
grand  opera  "  The  Rose  of  Castille,"  and  others  so 
designated.  They  like  what  the  French  call,  and  for 
which  we  have  no  equivalent  name,  "  opera  comique," 
in  which  a  great  portion  of  the  drama  is  in  spoken 
dialogue.  It  is  said  that  speaking  dialogue  fatigues 
the  singing  voice ;  I  must  say  I  have  never  found  it 
the  case.  Hoel  in  "  Dinorah,"  my  first  part,  is  long, 
both  in  music  and  dialogue,  and  after  two  weeks' 
hard  work  at  rehearsals  and  studying  at  home,  I 
played  it  for  five  weeks  every  night,  at  the  expira- 
tion of  which,  for  a  rest,  I  played  Di  Luna  in  "II 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY        323 

Trovatore  "  on  the  succeeding  Monday  night,  and  un- 
voice was  as  fresh,  or  fresher,  than  when  I  began  the 
season.  Of  course  in  these  days,  when  young  people 
have  not  learned  to  use  their  voices  properly,  any 
excuse  is  better  than  none  for  not  being  able  to  get 
through  more  than  three  or  four  nights  a  week,  and 
for  not  studying  elocution  sufficiently  to  be  able  t<> 
recite  decently. 

I  resolved  I  would  throw  away  neither  money 
nor  health  longer  on  what  was  surely  a  chimera,  and 
decided  to  devote  the  rest  of  my  career  to  the  concert 
platform ;  but  what  I  proposed  was  otherwise  dis- 
posed, for  I  had  yet  to  undergo  a  theatrical  ordeal 
far  more  trying  than  any  I  had  hitherto  passed 
through. 

It  grieved  me  deeply  to  abandon  all  1113*  cherished 
hopes  and  the  object  of  my  whole  life's  ambition  — 
the  stage.  I  had  one  small  solace,  the  oratorio,  for  in 
those  davs  there  was  a  society  where  oratorios  were 
performed  in  a  way  worthy  of  the  great  composers 
who  wrote  them.  It  was  but  a  small  solace,  though 
—  an  oratorio  now  and  then  as  a  set-off  against  a 
crowd  of  miscellaneous  concerts,  where  the  "  Erl 
King,"  or  some  other  fine  song,  would  be  ushered  in 
by  some  imbecile  trash  about  two  old  fogies  warming 
their  toes  and  indulging  in  sentimental  balderdash, 
or  about  children  dropping  asleep  over  their  evening 
porridge  and  being  put  to  bed,  with  the  great  proba- 
bility, unexpressed  in  the  ditty,  that  they  would  be 
victims  to  indigestion  and  consequent  nightmare. 


324        REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

And  worse  than  all,  to  know  that  ninety-nine  hun- 
dreclths  of  those  composing  the  audience  would 
christen  such  stuff  poetry,  and  the  melancholy 
meandering  of  the  exponent  singing.  And  it  is  to 
be  classed  along  with  incompetence,  such  as  the  like 
exponents  display,  that  one  makes  a  life-study  of 
the  art  of  expressing  poetry  in  song. 


CHAPTER   XXI 

<  )ff  to  America  —  A  Farewell  Concert  —  A  Voracious  Charmer  — 
Cure  for  Sea-sickness  —  New  York  Pavement  —  The  American 
Oyster  —  More  Laurels  than  Pence  —  Lunch  at  Nine  p.m. — 
Where  is  the  Town?  —  Oil  preferred  to  Music — "Hearts  of 
Oak"  —Patriotic  Toronto  —  A  Waiting  Race  for  Supper. 

I  WAS  very  glad  when  the  opportunity  occurred  by 
which  I  could  get  away  from  my  old  associations  for 
a  time.  I  was  offered  an  engagement  to  go  with  a 
concert  party  to  the  United  States  on  very  fair  terms. 
The  party  was  to  consist  of  Miss  Edith  Wynne,  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Patey,  Mr.  W.  H.  Cummings,  and  myself, 
with  Mr.  Lindsay  SI  ope  r  as  accompanist  and  sole 
pianist.  It  was  my  old  love  of  the  sea  which  presented 
the  greatest  inducement  to  my  leaving  England.  I 
had  long  had  a  wish  to  cross  the  ocean,  and  here  my 
wish  was  to  be  gratified  —  my  singing  in  America  was 
in  comparison  a  matter  of  indifference.  I  certainly 
looked  forward  to  a  friendly  greeting,  as  I  had  met 
with  many  pleasant  Americans,  professional  and  other- 
wise, who  all  promised  me  a  gratifying  reception  if  I 
should  ever  visit  the  States. 

Our  agent  started  to  prepare  the  way  some  weeks 
ahead  of  us.  Before  leaving  I  proposed  to  give  a 
farewell  concert  at  Liverpool  the  night  before  we 

325 


326        REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

sailed.  The  secretary  of  the  Philharmonic  Society 
threw  cold  water  on  the  suggestion ;  he  was  sure  it 
would  be  a  failure.  The  consequence  was,  luckily 
for  me,  that  the  society  would  not  share  with  me,  but 
demanded  thirty  guineas  for  the  hire  of  their  hall.  I 
made  the  arrangements,  engaged  my  fellow-travellers, 
and  put  forth  a  popular  attractive  programme.  A 
few  days  before  the  day  of  the  concert  I  wrote  to  the 
secretary  to  ask  him  to  reserve  a  box  for  my  family. 
His  reply  was  that  he  would  be  able  to  reserve  any 
number,  as  there  was  plenty  of  room  left.  I  felt  some- 
what surprised  that  the  townsmen  who  professed  to 
take  such  pride  in  me  should  not  honour  me  with  a 
crowd  when  I  was  about  to  say  farewell  for  an  indefi- 
nite period.  T  was  much  more  pleasantly  surprised, 
when  I  arrived  at  the  hall  for  the  concert,  to  find  they 
had  responded  so  heartily  that  the  hall  was  crowded 
in  every  part,  very  little  else,  except  the  box  I  had 
had  reserved,  being  given  away.  The  concert,  as  I 
have  said,  was  a  popular  one,  the  prices  not  on  a  high 
scale,  but  the  result  was  very  satisfactory,  being  net 
<£275.  The  next  time  I  gave  a  concert  at  the  same 
hall,  which  was  during  a  tour  I  made  after  my  return 
from  America,  they  would  not  let  me  the  room  at  any 
price  except  a  share  of  the  proceeds. 

To  describe  a  voyage  to  America,  made  in  1871, 
would  be  simply  ludicrous  now.  It  was,  to  a  certain 
extent,  an  undertaking  even  then ;  now  it  is  little 
more  than  a  run  down  to  Greenwich  by  boat  to  eat 
whitebait,  except  that  occasionally  the  water  is 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLF.Y        327 

rougher.  I  liked  it  so  much,  I  should  have  preferred 
carrying  out  my  engagement  on  board  ship.  I  am 
what  is  called  a  good  sailor,  which  means  I  am  a 
stranger  to  sea-sickness,  which  all  real  sailors  are  not. 
I  knew  one  who,  after  each  watch,  threw  himself  on 
the  flooi:  of  his  cabin  and  lay  there  like  a  log.  sick  as 
a  dog.  Still  the  sea  air  affected  me  seriously ;  I  was 
nearly  always  hungry  ;  meal-times  seemed  as  though 
they  would  never  come  round,  although  there  was 
not  much  space  between  them  —  breakfast  at  nine. 
lunch  at  twelve,  dinner  at  four,  tea  at  half-past  six. 
and  supper  at  nine.  I  was  not  an  exception  in  this  : 
I  was  amused  and  astonished  at  the  prowess  some  of 
my  fellow-travellers  displayed,  notably  a  very  pretty 
little  American  lady,  my  ri+d-vi»  at  table.  I  expected 
that  a  cup  of  tea  and  a  little  toa>t  would  be  about  as 
much  as  she  would  undertake  for  breakfast,  but  1  saw 
her  the  first  morning  eat  a  good  solid  rump-steak, 
followed  by  a  dish  of  ham  and  eggs,  topped  up  with 
sundry  little  frivolities,  sueh  as  jam.  muiiins,  etc. 
At  the  dinner  when  all  sat  down,  we  were  uncom- 
fortably crowded,  and  I  was  glad  when  a  little  rough 
weather  thinned  the  benches.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Patey 
retired  altogether  for  about  three  days  :  Cummings, 
who  complained  of  headache,  at  last  went  in  search 
of  them;  they  had  been  very  bad.  and  he  found  Patey 
restoring  his  wasted  form  with  devilled  ham  and  bot- 
tled porter  —  a  novel  remedy  for  sea-sickness.  I  had 
not  been  used  to  the  company  of  cockroaches  in  bed, 
but  after  a  night  or  two  on  board  I  became  accustomed 


328        REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

to  them,  and  left  them  to  amuse  themselves  after  their 
own  fashion.  The  captain  —  Theodore  Cook  —  was 
a  very  quiet,  gentlemanly  man ;  many  of  the  passen- 
gers complained  of  his  want  of  civility  when  they 
addressed  him ;  for  my  part  I  often  wished  I  had  the 
faculty  of  keeping  my  own  counsel  as  he  had,  as  it 
would  have  hsen  better  for  me.  If  people  would  only 
reflect  on  the  responsibility  a  captain  of  a  large  ship, 
with  a  valuable  cargo  and  a  large  number  of  passen- 
gers on  board,  has  to  bear,  they  would  not  be  so  apt 
to  find  fault  with  his  apparent  taciturnity.  I  found 
him  an  exceedingly  pleasant  man,  but  I  never  ad- 
dressed him  when  I  saw  he  was  occupied ;  I  left  him 
to  address  me,  and  we  got  on  very  well  together. 

The  voyage  seemed  very  short,  and  I  felt  quite  sad 
at  leaving  the  ship ;  however,  there  was  a  new  place 
to  see,  new  people  to  know,  so  my  spirits  gradually 
rose.  Near  the  quay  we  mounted  on  a  machine  which 
seemed  a  cross  between  a  break  for  exercising  horses 
and  a  circus-van,  and  away  we  sped,  over  hill  and 
over  dale  (literally,  for  the  pavement  of  New  York 
was  then,  and  is  still,  a  series  of  ridges  and  valleys), 
to  our  hotel.  I  found  my  dormitory  high  up  in  the 
air ;  hot  and  cold  water  laid  on,  though  the  hot  never 
came  when  it  was  bidden.  One  great  comfort  there 
was,  a  comfort  which  with  very  little  exception  I 
have  found  wherever  I  have  been  in  the  United 
States  and  Canada,  a  really  comfortable  bed.  As  a 
particular  favour  we  had  our  meals  in  private ;  they 
were  very  well  served,  with  plenty  and  great  variety. 


REMINISCENCES    OF  CIIARI.KS   SAXTI.EY        329 

I  cannot  say  much  in  praise  of  tl»e  wine-cellar:  its 
contents,  as  far  as  I  became  acquainted  with  them, 
were  of  a  very  indifferent  order.  In  the  exuberance 
of  my  spirits  once  after  a  morning  concert,  I  ordered 
a  bottle  of  what  was  described  as  port,  vintage 
1834,  but  it  turned  out  to  be  cherry  brandy.  Soon 
after  our  arrival  I  was  invited  along  with  the  other 
male  members  of  our  company  to  a  guesfc-night  at  the 
Lotus  Club,  where  we  met  with  a  most  cordial 
reception.  A  stout  elderly  member  accosted  me  dur- 
ing the  evening,  asking  me  if  I  remembered  meeting 
him  in  London — at  Alboni's  house,  or  apartments 
somewhere  in  Regent's  Park.  I  replied  I  did  not. 
•-  Perhaps,"  said  he,  -you  will  be  able  to  recollect 
the  occasion  when  I  remind  you  we  dined  there,  and 
before  dinner  you  sang  the  duet  from  •  Semiramide  ' 
with  Alhoni :  it  was  in  the  year  1>O7."  I  replied  he 
must  be  mistaken,  as  I  never  dined  with  Alhoni.  I 
never  sang  the  duet  from  ••  Sciniramide  "  with  her, 
and  in  the  year  18.">7  I  was  living  in  Milan.  He 
insisted  he  was  right,  and  that  I  had  forgotten  all 
about  it,  so  I  left  him  to  enjoy  the  fruits  of  his  imagi- 
nation. I  had  often  heard  of  the  celebrated  Ameri- 
can oyster  which  half  a  do/.en  people  had  tried  to 
swallow  without  success,  and  was  anxious  to  learn  if 
the  story  were  founded  on  fact.  Cummings  con- 
ducted me  to  a  cellar  in  Broadway,  where,  upon  his 
order,  a  waiter  produced  two  plates,  on  which  were 
half  a  dozen  objects,  about  the  si/e  and  shape  of  the 
sole  of  an  ordinary  lady's  shoe,  on  each  of  which  lay 


330        REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

what  appeared  to-  me  to  be  a  very  bilious  tongue, 
accompanied  bv  smaller  plates  containing  shredded, 
white  cabbage  raw.  I  did  not  admire  the  look  of 
the  repast,  but  I  never  discard  food  on  account  of 
looks.  I  took  up  an  oyster,  and  tried  to  get  it  into  my 
mouth,  but  it  was  of  no  use ;  I  tried  to  ram  it  in 
with  the  butt-end  of  the  fork,  but  all  to  no  purpose, 
and  I  had  to  drop  it;  and,  to  the  great  indignation 
of  the  waiter,  paid  and  left  the  oysters  for  him  to 
dispose  of  as  he  might  like  best.  I  presume  those 
oysters  are  eaten,  but  I  cannot  imagine  by  whom ;  I 
have  rarely  seen  a  mouth  capable  of  the  neces.su  ry 
expansion.  I  soon  found  out  that  there  were  plenty 
of  delicious  oysters  in  the  States  within  the  compass 
of  ordinary  jaws. 

According  to  my  usual  plan.  I  wandered  all  over 
the  city  from  the  Battery  to  Central  Park,  and  from 
one  river  across  to  the  other,  and  soon  became  ac- 
quainted with  all  the  ins  and  outs  thereof.  I  saw 
plenty  to  admire,  except  it  was  all  so  new,  and  only 
one  thing  displeased  me  really  —  the  incessant  noise. 
We  have  noise  plenty  and  to  spare  in  the  city  of 
London,  or  in -any  of  our  great  towns  in  Great  Britain, 
but  nothing  to  compare  with  the  din  in  New  York. 
These  little  things  I  mention  first,  being  my  first  im- 
pressions of  the  place,  but  I  had  not  lost  sight  of  the 
important  object  of  my  visit.  My  strolling  propen- 
sities having  been  remarked,  one  paper  published  a 
statement  to  the  effect  that  Mr.  Santley  took  a  great 
deal  of  exercise,  and  that  he  walked  from  the  Battery 


REMINISCENCES   OF  r//.-//v'/./-'.s    SANTLEY        331 

to  Central  Park  every  morning  before  breakfast. 
Another  got  hold  of  a  remark  I  made  in  jest  at  table, 
and  informed  its  readers  that  "Santley  says  squash 
pie  is  the  best  thing  to  sing  on  he  knows  ! "  I  was 
asked  once  if  I  would  like  to  live  in  New  York.  I 
incautiously  (referring  to  the  intolerable  din)  replied 
I  would  prefer  a  lodging  in  the  Strand.  London,  with 
an  income  of  ,£100  per  annum,  to  the  best  house  in 
Fifth  Avenue  with  £10,000  a  year:  this  was  also 
published,  so  I  thought  it  was  high  time  to  study  to 
keep  my  own  counsel.  I  had  an  early  interview  with 
our  manager  on  the  prospects  of  the  campaign,  and  I 
was  bound  to  confess  to  myself  they  looked  like  failure. 
He  was  sanguine  ;  there  were  all  sorts  of  reasons  why 
business  should  not  be  so  good  at  first.  For  my  pail. 
I  was  satisfied  it  would  not  improve:  if  people  want 
to  hear  or  see  anything,  they  turn  out.  spite  of  weather 
or  bad  times  :  an  epidemic  is  about  the  only  thing  I 
know  of  which  will  prevent  the  public  from  seeking 
amusement.  We  were  supposed  to  give  JlnU<i<l  <'<>n- 
(v/-/.v.  but  though  the  American  public  liked  ballads, 
they  were  not  accustomed  to  concerts  made  up  of  that 
commodity.  Perhaps  had  the  trumpets  been  blown, 
and  the  various  and  varied  beauties  of  our  programme 
been  explained  in  glowing  colours,  we  might  have 
made  a  sensation.  Individually,  we  were  all  received 
with  enthusiasm:  it  was  only  rarely  we  had  not  to 
sing  a  double  programme.  Our  audiences  were  ex- 
tremelv  enthusiastic,  but  not  sufficiently  numerous 
to  cover  the  great  expense  of  such  a  company.  At 


332         7l7-;.J/AV/.SrA.V( -A.Y    Ol'    CHARLES   SAXTLEY 

Boston  we  met  with  the  same  amount  of  enthusiasm, 
which  we  were  led  to  suppose  would  not  he  the  case, 
owing  to  the  rivalry  between  that  city  and  New  York  ; 
our  audiences  were  also  more  numerous.  For  the 
oratorios  —  "  Elijah,"  "  St.  Paul,"  "  The  Messiah," 
"Judas  Maccabseus,"  etc.  —  we  had  splendid  houses, 
and  I  was  exceedingly  pleased  to  note  that  the  atten- 
tion of  the  audience  was  not  fixed,  as  it  invariably  is 
in  England,  on  those  few  pieces  which  have  become 
stock  encores,  no  matter  how  they  are  sung  or  mur- 
dered. Especially  in  "  Elijah  "  I  felt  the  audience 
following  the  prophet  throughout  as  the  principal 
object  of  their  attention. 

The  first  night  we  sang  in  New  York  the  great  fire 
broke  out  in  Chicago,  which  reduced  a  great  [tart  of 
that  city  to  ashes.  It  was  intended  that  after  JSYw 
York,  Boston,  and  the  neighbouring  towns  of  impor- 
tance, we  should  turn  westward  to  Chicago,  Pitts- 
burg,  St.  Louis,  etc.,  etc.,  but  our  manager  for  some 
unaccountable  reason  changed  our  route.  He  con- 
tended that  Chicago,  the  principal  musical  centre 
westward,  being  in  such  a  [(light,  it  would  be  useless 
to  give  a  concert  there,  and  without  the  seal  of 
Chicago  it  would  be  worse  than  useless  to  attempt 
anything  in  the  other  Western  cities.  I  opposed  him 
to  the  best  of  my  ability.  I  had  never  been  over  the 
ground  certainly,  but  his  notion  was  absurd  on  the 
face  of  it,  that  because  Chicago  was  suffering  from  a 
calamity  no  other  city  of  the  West  would  welcome 
us.  I  went  so  far  as  to  make  him  an  offer.  I  would 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY        333 

L;"  tlie  tour  of  the  principal  Western  cities  (to  be 
named),  and  if  any  loss  occurred,  I  would  forego  my 
salary  for  the  time  and  pay  my  own  expenses.  He 
refused  my  offer,  and  took  up  a  tour  which  had  been 
dropped  by  Ole  Bull,  the  violinist,  in  consequence  of 
his  serious  illness ;  instead  of  appearing  in  places  of 
importance  we  were  thus  for  three  weeks  dragging 
about  in  small  towns  where  music  such  as  we  per- 
formed was  no  attraction.  Amongst  the  rest  we 
went  to  Canandaigua.  I  do  not  know  what  it  is 
now,  but  at  that  time  it  barely  contained  4,000  in- 
habitants. We  arrived  at  dusk  one  evening  after  a 
long  day's  travelling,  very  tired  and  very  hungry. 
We  were  shown  our  rooms  :  then  I  asked  if  we  could 
have  some  supper,  as  we  had  not  had  a  decent  meal 
the  whole  day.  "-Guess  you  can't  have  supper." 
"Good  gracious!  you  can  give  us  something  to  eat. 
surely?"  "Waal,  I  guess  lunch'll  be  ready  at  nine; 
there's  ham  and  eggs  and  a  good  piece  of  cold  beef." 
••('all  it  what  you  like,  lunch  or  supper,  only  I  never 
before  heard  of  lunch  at  nine  p.m.,  but  let  us  sat- 
isfv  our  craving  stomachs,"  said  I.  "  Waal,  at  nine 
o'clock  it'll  be  on  the  table."  As  we  had  still  about 
three  quarters  of  an  hour  to  wait,  Cummings  and  I 
turned  out  for  a  stroll.  I  was  struck  with  the  still- 
ness, and  suggested  that  there  were  either  very  few 
inhabitants,  or  they  had  been  visited  by  a  plague 
and  the  major  part  of  them  were  defunct ;  "  besides," 
I  added.  "I  don't  see  where  the  town  lies."  "Oh!' 
said  Cummings.  "it  lies  off  to  the  right  here."  We 


334        REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

came  to  a  cross  street;  I  looked  to  the  right,  but 
could  not  discern  anything  except  a  few  houses 
scattered  at  distant  intervals,  distinguishable  by  the 
lights  in  the  windows.  I  said,  "  There's  no  town 
there ;  nothing  but  fields."  "  Oh !  "  said  he,  "  I  was 
mistaken ;  I  remember  now,  it  lies  on  the  other  side." 
We  turned  to  go  back  to  the  hotel,  and  took  the 
other  side  of  the  way.  I  peered  up  each  street,  but 
there  was  no  vestige  of  town  to  be  discovered.  Not 
likely,  as  Canandaigua  consisted  of  one  street.  But 
it  was  not  the  worst  place  by  any  means  that  we 
visited ;  even  there  we  had  upwards  of  five  hundred 
dollars  in  the  room  —  an  exceedingly  good  return  for 
such  a  small  place.  We  visited  coal  cities,  oil  cities, 
and  timber  cities ;  but  none  of  them  seemed  to  care 
for  concerts. 

Before  this  wretched  tour  we  had  been  to  Phila- 
delphia, Baltimore,  and  Washington.  Of  all  the 
cities  I  visited  during  my  stay  in  the  States,  Balti- 
more was  to  me  the  most  sympathetic ;  I  can  hardly 
tell  why,  but  it  struck  me  as  soon  as  I  landed  there. 
We  had  a  very  indifferent  house,  but  the  small  num- 
ber present  were  most  enthusiastic.  The  morning 
after  the  concert,  our  manager  sent  to  me  to  go  to 
his  room,  as  there  was  an  influential  gentleman  there 
desirous  of  making  my  personal  acquaintance.  I 
descended  and  was  presented.  We  had  a  pleasant 
conversation  respecting  my  impressions  of  and  my 
reception  in  America,  which  introduced  the  subject 
of  our  concert  the  night  before.  He  expressed  great 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY       335 

regret  we  had  not  been  favoured  with  a  larger  audi- 
ence ;  "  but,"  said  he,  "  our  people  have  not  sufficient 
appreciation  of  art  to  be  attracted  by  singing  such  as 
yours.  Now,  if  by  some  means  you  could  arrange  a 
story  of  how  you  were  found  in  a  cradle  of  bulrushes 
by  the  President's  daughter  away  up  the  river  as 
she  went  out  bathing,  like  Moses  was  by  Pharaoh's 
daughter,  all  Baltimore  would  turn  out  to  see  you." 
I  was  often  requested  to  sing,  "  Hail,  Columbia  " ;  I 
said  I  had  no  objection,  provided  they  would  permit 
me  to  sing  "  Hearts  of  Oak  "  after  it.  A  propos  of 
"  Hearts  of  Oak,"  I  did  sing  the  song  once  in  Xew 
York  at  a  party  given  by  a  gentleman  in  his  apart- 
ment at  Delmonico's.  We  had  enjoyed  a  very  jolly 
evening.  Towards  midnight  two  new  guests  arrived 
rather  the  worse  for  wear.  They  had  been  at  a  din- 
ner at  the  Brooklyn  Club  to  which  the  officers  of  a 
Russian  man-of-war  lying  in  the  harbour  had  been 
invited,  with  the  express  intention  of  making  them 
all  drunk  and  seeing  them  under  the  table;  but  tin- 
hosts  had  not  calculated  on  the  resisting  power  of 
a  Russian  head,  and  the  tables  were  turned;  the 
guests  remained  perfectly  sober  whilst  the  hosts  were 
all  more  or  less  intoxicated.  The  two  new  arrivals 
were  pretty  far  gone.  The  younger  of  the  two 
pounced  upon  me  as  soon  as  he  saw  me  in  the  room ; 
he  knew  me,  as  he  had  attended  all  of  our  concerts  ; 
he  pestered  my  life  out,  and  I  could  not  get  rid  of 
his  blandishments  until  I  had  danced  a  waltz  with 
him.  I  had  peace  for  a  while,  but  at  length  having 


336         KEMIXISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

disposed  of  egg-nog  and  sundry  other  beverages  the 
tormenting  spirit  again  moved  him,  and  he  insisted 
on  my  singing  a  song ;  this  I  flatly  refused,  until  our 
host,  to  put  him  to  silence,  begged  me  to  comply 
with  any  little  thing  that  would  give  me  no  trouble, 
apologizing  at  the  same  time  for  the  rude  behaviour 
of  my  tormentor.  "  Very  well,"  said  I,  "  I  will  sing 
a  song ;  it  shall  be  '  Hearts  of  Oak,'  and  the  windows 
must  be  thrown  open  that  the  passers-by  may  have  a 
treat  too."  I  went  through  the  performance  to  the 
satisfaction  of  my  host  and  his  guests,  and  especially 
of  my  inebriated  friend,  who  swore  me  eternal  friend- 
ship. 

Soon  after  Christmas  we  paid  a  visit  to  Buffalo, 
where  we  gave  two  concerts,  fairly  well  attended.  A 
fire  broke  out  on  the  second  night ;  the  weather  was 
so  cold  that  the  water  froze  on  the  firemen's  jackets, 
close  as  they  were  to  the  fire.  We  crossed  over  to 
Toronto  in  Canada,  and  remained  on  our  way  a  day 
at  Niagara  to  see  the  Falls.  Contrary  to  what  I  had 
been  told,  they  made  a  great  impression  on  me  the 
first  glimpse  I  had  of  them.  I  think  it  must  have 
been  seeing  them  first  in  the  depth  of  winter.  I  have 
since  seen  them  in  the  height  of  summer,  but  there  is 
no  comparison ;  the  scenery  surrounding  them  is  of 
a  poor  description,  to  which  the  snow  and  ice  lend  a 
false  picturesqueness.  The  thermometer  was  down 
I  know  not  where,  but  I  did  not  suffer  from  the  cold, 
the  air  being  so  dry  and  brisk ;  the  only  inconven- 
ience that  I  had  to  bear,  and  that  was  a  slight  one, 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY        337 

was  carrying  an  icicle  on  the  tip  of  each  moustache 
all  day.  At  Toronto  we  had  a  packed  room,  and  a 
most  enthusiastic  public.  Our  programme  had  been 
arranged  to  suit,  as  well  as  we  could,  the  American 
taste ;  it  contained  sundry  Italian  and  French  pieces. 
A  gentleman  waited  on  me  just  before  we  dined  to 
ask  if  it  might  not  be  possible  to  change  it,  as  the 
public  were  anxious  to  hear  as  many  of  our  English 
songs  as  possible.  I  promised  we  would  do  so,  but 
at  that  hour  it  would  not  be  possible  to  print  a  iu>w 
programme.  The  audience  appeared  to  grow  frantic, 
and  the  applause  was  deafening.  We  had  to  repeat 
each  piece  or  sing  something  else  in  place  of  it,  and 
when  we  concluded  with  "God  save  the  Queen," 
they  almost  tore  the  place  down.  On  our  return 
journey  by  Rochester  and  Syracuse  to  Boston,  we 
were  detained  somewhat  by  a  heavy  snowstorm;  hut 
b\-  dint  of  using  the  locomotive  as  a  battering-rani 
we  did  not  stick  fast.  When  we  arrived  at  Boston 
the  snow  was  so  deep  we  had  to  drive  to  the  Parker 
House  in  sledges.  Two  hours  after,  when  we  had 
dined  and  turned  out  to  cross  over  to  the  Museum, 
the  snow  had  almost  disappeared,  and  the  streets 
were  nearly  knee-deep  in  slush  and  water,  so  quick 
are  the  changes  from  extreme  cold  to  a  mild  tem- 
perature. 

Our  concert  tour  ended  at  Boston,  in  the  month 
of  February.  Miss  Wynne.  Mr.  Oummings  and  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Patey  returned  almost  immediately  to  Eng- 
land. I  remained  in  Boston  for  about  a  fortnight 


338        REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

after  my  friends  had  left.  I  was  present  one  evening 
at  a  dinner  given  by  the  Harvard  Musical  Society, 
when  my  health  was  proposed  in  most  poetic  terms 
by  James  T.  Fields,  and  responded  to  most  enthusi- 
astically by  the  assembled  guests.  I  heard  some  ex- 
cellent speeches,  and  was  particularly  pleased  to 
notice  that  none  of  the  speakers  fell  back  on  that 
senseless  m-iek  modesty  so  common  in  England, 
which  takes  the  form  of  stating  that  any  other  per- 
son in  the  room,  or  anyhow  a  great  number  of  them, 
would  be  much  more  fit  to  propose  or  second  the 
toast  in  hand.  I  have  regretted  since  that  I  did 
not  accept  an  invitation  from  .James  T.  Fields  to 
an  ''evening  at  home"  to  hear  Emerson  read  his 
last  book;  I  felt  fatigued  and  dispirited  after  so 
much  uncomfortable  travelling,  and  the  disappoint- 
ment of  our  efforts  not  being  attended  with  financial 
success.  I  had  no  share  in  that  part,  as  I  was  paid 
a  stipulated  sum,  but  perhaps  I  felt  more  for  my 
employers  than  I  should  have  done  for  myself  had 
the  loss  been  my  own. 

During  this  stay  in  Boston  I  met  with  the  only 
instance  of  inhospitality  which  occurred  to  me  in  the 
United  States.  I  should  not  probably  remember  it, 
but  I  received  on  all  sides  such  hearty  hospitality 
that  this  instance  shows  out  like  a  dark  shadow  in  a 
sunny  landscape.  It  is  comical,  or  I  would  nut  relate 
it.  A  certain  theatrical  manager,  who  with  his  wife 
used  to  favour  us  with  his  company  at  supper  at 
the  Parker  House  after  our  concerts,  was  constantly 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY       339 

imploring  us  to  go  and  have  dinner  with  him  without 
naming  the  glad  day.  At  last  he  settled  on  Christ- 
mas Day.  We  had  to  sing  tin-  ••  Mi-s.-iah  "  in  the 
evening  at.  seven  o'clock,  so  dinner  was  fixed  for  three 
sharp.  I  would  not  go,  as  I  never  u<>  visiting  when 

I  have  work  to  do  in  public.     All  the othen except 

Slopei'  accepted.  They  went  and  waited,  but  there 
were  no  signs  of  dinner;  about  live,  tea  was  handed 
round  and  nuil'lins,  I  believe  —  capital  preparations 
for  singing.  The  end  was  they  had  to  sing  the 
••Messiah"  on  empty  stomachs.  After  they  had 
departed  for  Kngland,  Slopei-  and  I  were  bound  to 
atom-  for  our  absence  from  the  festive  board  on 
Christmas  Day;  we  arranged  to  sup  with  them  one 
Sundav,  as  being  the.  one  day  on  which  the  manager 
could  enjoy  an  evening  with  his  friends.  \Ve  dined 
prettv  earlv,  and  arrived  at  our  host's  house  towards 
seven;  we  regaled  ourselves  with  our  own  cigars  for 
an  hour  or  more,  when  our  host  snooted  perhaps 
we  were  growing  thirsty.  I  acknowledged  ;he  soft 
impeachment,  and  confessed  1  >hoiild  like  a  drink. 
I  was  then  offered  a  pitcher  of  iced  water  (it  was 
still  winter;,  which  I  unceremoniously  declined. 
After  a  Li-reat  deal  of  searching,  a  square  Hollands 
bottle  was  fished  out,  with  jn.xt  enough  to  .supply 
Slopci-  and  me,  with  a  glass  apiece.  Another  hour 
of  smoke  exhausted  my  patience,  and  I  made  a  move- 
ment to  retire.  Then  came  the  tug  of  war;  I  should 
not  leave  the  house  until  I  had  supped;  the  more 
I  insisted  upon  going  the  more  they  insisted  on  my 


340        REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

staying.  I  suspected  it  was  all  put  on,  so  I  thought 
I  would  enjoy  a  joke  at  their  expense,  and  I  suddenly 
changed  my  mind  and  said  I  would  stay ;  I  winked 
at  Sloper,  and  he,  too,  suddenly  determined  he  would 
let  our  hosts  have  their  own  way.  Then  dismay 
seized  them ;  they  were  taken  in  their  own  net,  and 
there  was  no  withdrawing.  They  scuffled  in  and  out 
of  the  room,  bringing  in  table-cloth,  knives  and  forks, 
etc.,  to  arrange  the  table.  I  remonstrated,  and  said 
they  need  not  hurry,  but  let  the  servant  do  all. 
"  Servant !  "  said  the  hostess,  "  why  she's  in  bed  long 
ago.*'  I  chuckled  and  commenced  to  enjoy  the  fun 
in  good  earnest.  A  cold  roast  fowl  nicely  browned 
appeared,  together  with  a  tart  and  sundry  other  fix- 
ings ;  also  a  bottle  of  claret,  which  was  carefully 
deposited  on  the  sideboard.  We  sat  down;  our 
victim,  with  a  flourish  of  his  knife,  and  trying  to  put 
on  a  jovial  air,  began,  "Now,  Charlie,  will  you  take 
a  bit  of  chicken  ?  "  "  Rather,"  said  I.  "  What  part?  " 
said  he.  "A  wing,"  said  I,  "and  a  nice  thick  cut 
of  the  breast."  Sloper  followed  suit,  and  we  very 
ungallantly  left  the  legs  for  our  hosts.  "  And  what 
would  you  like  to  drink,  my  boy?"  Said  I,  "  I  see  a 
bottle  of  claret  there,  that'll  do."  I  never  remember 
such  an  obstinate  cork  as  the  one  which  stuck  in  the 
neck  of  that  bottle.  To  end  the  story,  we  demolished 
the  greater  part  of  the  chicken,  finished  the  bottle  of 
claret  between  us  (I  mean  Sloper  and  T,  for  our 
friends  stuck  to  iced  water),  made  a  large  hole  in 
the  tart,  and  when  we  had,  as  far  as  lay  in  our  power, 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY        341 

completed  the  desolation  of  the  larder,  we  stuck 
cigars  in  our  mouths,  thanked  our  hosts  for  a  delight- 
ful entertainment,  and  bidding  them  a  hearty  fare- 
well, returned  to  the  Parker  House,  chuckling  over 
the  gruesome  countenances  we  had  left  behind. 
were  never  invited  again  ! 


CHAPTER  XXII   • 

Success  with  "  Zampa"  — Italian  Opera  Season  in  New  York  —  A 
Prim  Songstress  —  Realism  and  the  "  high  C  "  — A  "  Real  Good 
Time"  —  Return  Voyage  —  Music  hath  Charms  —  My  Peaks  of 
the  Mountain  Range  —  Mario  and  John  Parry. 

I  HAD  made  an  engagement  with  Mr.  Carl  Rosa  to 
join  his  company,  which  was  to  open  in  March,  at 
the  Academy,  in  New  York,  with  his  wife  Madame 
Parepa,  Adelaide  Phillips,  and  Wachtel,  the  German 
tenor,  for  Italian  opera.  As  I  did  not  feel  inclined  to 
remain  all  the  intervening  time  idle,  I  made  a  stip- 
ulation that  I  should  be  engaged  for  his  English 
opera  tour,  and  joined  them  at  New  York,  where  I 
played  "Zampa"  and  "Fra  Diavolo."  "Zampa" 
was  a  great  success,  here  and  in  each  town  we  played 
it ;  it  always  brought  a  crowded  house,  and  my  fav- 
ourite, Baltimore,  made  up  for  her  neglect  during  the 
concert  tonr,  and  packed  the  house  three  nights  in  a 
week  to  see  me  play  "  Zampa."  At  Philadelphia  I 
played  Valentine  in  "Faust,"  for  Mrs.  Jenny  Van 
Zandt's  benefit,  and  it  was  a  bumper.  We  were  to 
play  "  Zampa "  in  Newark,  New  Jersey,  one  night 
during  our  stay  in  New  York ;  being  a  short  journey, 
I  went  across  after  dinner.  I  was  busy  making  up  in 
my  dressing-room,  when  the  call-boy  came  to  ask  if  I 
342 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY        343 

had  a  score  of  the  opera  with  me.  I  had  not ; 
neither  had  anyone  else.  On  inquiry  why  a  score 
was  in  such  request,  I  learned  that  everything  neces- 
sary had  been  sent  on,  except  the  band  parts.  There 
were  those  of  other  operas,  "  Trovatore,"  "  Bohemian 
Girl,"  and  I  don't  know  what  else,  but  "/ampa  "  had 
been  carefully  excluded.  The  worst  part  of  the  dif- 
ficulty was,  the  same  thing  had  occurred  at  the  last 
visit  of  Rosa's  company  to  Xexvark.  The  announce, 
incut  that  we  should  be  obliged  to  substitute  some- 
thing else  for  ••  Zampa  . "  was  received  with  a  storm  of 
disapprobation,  which  did  not  entirely  subside  through- 
out the  evening.  I  sang  my  scene  from  the  second 
act  of  "  II  Trovatore"  in  Italian,  including  "II  balen." 
the  chorus  joining  in  in  English;  also  "The  heart 
bowed  down."  and  some  other  piece  which  I  do  not 
recollect.  If  I  remember  rightly  I  did  not  change 
inv  dress,  but  played  di  Luna,  Arnheim.  and  what- 
ever the  other  \va^.  disguised  as  Zampa. 

The  Italian  season  in  Xe\v  York  began  about  the 
middle  of  March,  and  ended  on  the  30th  of  April. 
\Ve  played  "II  Trovatore."  ••  Uigoletto,"  "Lucrezia 
Borgia,"  "Martha."  "Gli  Ugonotti,"  -Don  Giovanni," 
and  -Guglielmo  Tell."  In  "  Gli  Ugonotti"  I  was 
once  more  associated  with  my  old  comrade,  Carl 
Formes,  whose  Marcel  even  then  was  better  than  any 
I  ever  heard.  His  voice  was  too  much  worn  to  last 
out  the  whole  opera,  but  his  representation  of  the 
rough  old  soldier  was  as  perfect  as  ever.  He  only 
played  at  one  performance:  a  chorus  singer  (!  !)  was 


344         REMINISCENCES    OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

substituted  for  him  after,  who  had  a  voice  which  he 
could  not  use,  so  the  opera  was  literally  played  with- 
out Marcel  —  a  building  without  a  foundation !  How- 
ever, he  was  cheap,  so  it  did  not  matter  about  the 
fabric  tottering.  I  had  the  pleasure  of  singing  in  the 
same  season  with  my  other  old  friend,  Giorgio  Ron- 
coni,  for  the  only  time,  in  "  Don  Giovanni,"  in  which 
he  played  Leporello.  The  house  was  crammed,  but 
my  attention  was  all  centred  in  Ronconi ;  I  did  not 
care  a  button  what  the  audience  thought,  all  my  en- 
deavour was  to  satisfy  him.  "  William  Tell  "  I  had 
never  played  before,  and  I  had  only  a  short  time  to 
learn  it  in,  and  very  few  rehearsals  ;  the  tenor  declined 
to  attend  the  orchestral  rehearsal,  to  my  annoyance,  as 
he  was  a  wretched  bad  actor,  and  I  did  not  know 
what  he  might  be  capable  of  doing  or  leaving  undone  ; 
and  accordingly,  at  the  performance,  he  led  me  a 
pretty  dance ;  I  found  him  anywhere  but  where 
he  ought  to  have  been.  A  very  clever  girl  played 
Jemmy,  but  she  was  very  prim.  In  my  scene  with 
her  at  the  rehearsal  I  begged  her  to  go  through  the 
action  as  I  wished  it  done  at  the  performance ;  and 
finding  her  a  trifle  formal,  to  tease  her,  I  introduced 
more  embracing  than  was  absolutely  necessary.  At 
the  end  she  remarked,  she  liked  the  part  very  much, 
but  it  seemed  to  her  there  was  a  superabundance  of 
hugging  in  it.  I  advanced  the  claim  of  a  loving 
father,  sending  his  beloved  child  on  such  a  perilous 
errand,  with  such  fervour  that  she  offered  no  further 
objection  and  resigned  herself  to  her  fate.  I  was  no 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY        345 

little  disturbed  in  the  meeting  of  the  cantons,  when 
one  strolled  on  singing  in  German  and  another  in 
Italian ;  it  was  realistic,  but  it  served  to  confuse  me, 
as  I  had  not  had  time  to  learn  the  part  as  thoroughly 
as  I  would  have  wished.  I  had  always  heard  wonder- 
ful accounts  of  the  "  high  C  "  which  our  Arnold  gave 
in  the  last  air.  I  listened  for  it,  for  I  confess  to  a 
weakness  for  high  C's  when  they  are  given  out  as 
Tamberlik  used,  but  no  high  C  came,  and  at  the 
subsequent  performance,  or  performances,  the  air  was 
omitted. 

In  some  of  the  operas  I  had  a  charming  companion 
in  Adelaide  Phillips,  an  exceedingly  good  singer 
(although  then  her  voice  was  on  the  wane)  and  an 
excellent  actress.  Madame  Parepa  played  in  all  the 
operas;  in  "II  Trovatore,"  "  Iligoletto,"  and  "William 
Tell,"  she  appeared  to  great  advantage,  but  in  the 
more  tragic  operas,  she  was  less  successful,  her 
histrionic  abilities  being  of  a  very  moderate  calibre. 
I  did  not  enjoy  the  season  at  all;  the  weather  was 
bitterly  cold,  the  theatre  comfortless;  the  company 
contained  few  congenial  spirits,  and  the  crowded 
houses  which  nocked  to  every  performance  appeared 
to  me  to  be  attracted  more  by  the  advertisement  of 
the  u  Great  Star  Combination"  than  by  the  artistic 
merit  of  the  company.  The  receipts  were  enormous 
—  of  course,  I  have  only  the  crowds  I  saw  and  the 
report  of  the  manager  to  judge  by  —  and  on  the  last 
night  they  reached  the  sum  of  11,000  dollars.  That 
may  or  may  not  be,  but  the  house  was  so  crammed  the 


346         REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

people  stood  in  the  parterre  packed  like  sardines,  and 
the  stage  was  so  crowded  with  those, who  could  not 
find  room  in  the  auditorium  that  we  had  scarcely 
room  to  pass  on  or  off  the  stage.  Spite  of  the  failure 
of  the  concert  tour  and  certain  drawbacks  connected 
with  my  operatic  engagement,  I  had  a  "real  good 
time  "  in  the  States,  and  felt  some  regret  at  leaving 
their  hospitable  shores,  at  the  same  time,  I  was  long- 
ing to  get  back  to  England  and  enjoy  a  little  peace 
and  quietness  after  the  hurry  and  scurry  of  American 
life.  I  left  on  the  1st  of  May,  the  day  after  our  last 
performance,  by  the  Cuba,  Captain  Moodie,  a  real 
jovial  sailor,  and  a  gentleman.  On  board  we  had 
Christine  Nilsson  and  one  member  of  her  company, 
Charles  Lyall ;  Carl  Rosa  and  his  wife,  and  sundry 
members  of  our  company.  A  crowd  of  friends  came 
on  board  to  bid  us  farewell,  most  of  whom  accom- 
panied us  in  two  rival  steam  tugs,  one  on  either 
quarter,  each  provided  with  a  brass  band,  whose 
horrible  din  served  to  drown  the  parting  grief  of  the 
more  tender-hearted.  Giorgio  Ronconi  was  among 
the  number ;  it  was  the  last  time  we  met,  for  although 
he  lived  until  the  beginning  of  the  year  1890,  he  never 
came  again  to  England,  and  our  paths  in  life  lay  wide 
apart.  He  went  for  a  tour  to  South  America,  and 
afterwards  settled  in  Madrid  as  a  teacher  of  singing. 
We  had  a  very  pleasant  voyage.  Most  of  us  males 
used  to  meet  together  in  the  officers'  mess-room  each 
evening,  where  we  supped,  smoked,  drank  grog,  and 
told  tales  and  sang  songs.  The  greater  part  of  the 


REMINISCENCES    OF  CHARLES   S.-LVTI.EY        347 

saloon  passengers  used  to  crowd  round  outside  and 
cheer  lustily  when  we  gave  them  something  which 
excited  their  admiration.  As  we  were  approaching 
Queenstown,  I  saw  a  sight  to  me  exquisitely  beautiful, 
one  that  perhaps  I  may  never  see  again.  We  passed 
an  outward-bound  steamer  of  the  same  line  as  ours 
(the  Canard)  as  the  sun  was  about  setting  in  a  per- 
fectly cloudless  sky.  Just  as  three-fourths  of  its  disc 
were  visible  above  the  horizon,  the  ship  we  had  seen 
pass  appeared  broad-side  as  though  painted  on  it, 
every  line  clearly  denned.  We  arrived  at  Liverpool 
on  the  11  th  of  May,  and  as  we  went  up  the  Mersey,  I 
could  not  help  contrasting  the  splendid  docks  and 
quays  with  the  wretched  wharves  which  disfigured, 
and  still  disfigure,  the  shores  of  the  Hudson  at  New 
York. 

The  season  in  New  York  was.  the  last  of  my  con- 
nection with  Italian  opera.  I  really  intended  it 
should  be  the  end  of  my  connection  with  any  opera. 
The  stage  had  proved  my  great  iUn*i<>n  perdue  ;  my 
own  enthusiasm  and  love  for  it  had  not  abated,  but 
I  could  not  fight  almost  single-handed  against  the 
lack  of  earnestness,  except  for  pecuniary  gain,  whu-h 
I  encountered  turn  which  way  I  might,  and  I  resolved 
to  quit  it. 

I  have  often  been  asked  when  I  have  been  speak- 
ing of  those  artists  I  look  upon  as  the  high  peaks 
which  overtop  a  mountain  range,  if  I  did  not  think 
the  enthusiasm  and  unfledged  impressions  of  youth 
had  not  influenced  my  opinions.  I  do  not  think  so, 


348         REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SA.YTLEY 

because  in  later  years  an  intimate  connection  with 
them  both  as  friend  and  comrade  (except  in  two 
instances,  those  of  Staudigl  and  Luigi  Lablache) 
only  served  to  confirm  my  youthful  impressions. 
My  peaks  are  Yiardot  Garcia,  Jenny  Lind,  Miolan- 
Carvalho,  Alboni,  Mario,  Giorgio  Ronconi,  Luigi 
Lablache,  Sims  Reeves,  and  Staudigl.  I  have  sung 
with  all  except  Lablache  and  Staudigl ;  with  the  first 
three  ladies  only  in  concerts,  with  Alboni,  Mario, 
Reeves,  and  Ronconi,  both  in  the  concert  room  and 
theatre.  Of  these  the  Everest  and  Aconcagua  were 

o 

Ronconi  and  Viardot,  vocally  and  histrionically ; 
neither  of  them  possessing  charm  of  voice  or  per- 
sonal appearance,  both  the  charm  of  genius,  which 
overtops  all  other.  Mario  was  handsome,  and  the 
best  proportioned  man  I  ever  knew;  he  was  a  genius, 
but  more  limited  than  the  other  two;  Viardot  and 
Ronconi  were  thoroughly  at  home  both  in  tragedy 
and  comedy  —  Donna  Anna  or  Papagena,  lago  or 
Papageno  —  always  great.  Mario  was  great  in  u  Les 
Huguenots,"  "Le  Prophdte,"  "  I  Puritani,"  "Un  Ballo 
in  Maschera,"  and  in  numerous  operas ;  but  he  was 
a  failure  in  "  Othello,"  and  "  Don  Giovanni,"  and  I, 
personally,  never  thought  his  Faust  a  good  perform- 
ance for  him.  He  was  dreadfully  lazy,  and  a  very 
slow  study.  Viardot  used  to  say  of  him  that  he 
began  to  have  some  notion  what  his  part  in  an 
opera  was  about,  when  everybody  else  concerned 
was  soaked  with  theirs.  I  had  the  pleasure  and 
advantage  of  his  intimate  acquaintance  for  some 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SAXTLEY        349 

years  before  he  retired  from  the  stage.  When  we 
were  together  on  operatic  tours,  we  generally  lived 
together  in  the  same  hotel,  and  always  occupied  the 
same  dressing-room  in  the  theatre,  where  he  smoked 
incessantly,  leaving  his  cigar  in  his  dresser's  hands 
as  he  went  on  the  stage,  and  taking  it  up  immediately 
as  he  came  off. 

I  tried  all  in  my  power  to  induce  him  to  rise  at  a 
decent  hour  —  it  was  generally  midday  or  after  before 
he  left  his  bedroom  —  but  I  only  succeeded  on  one 
occasion.  I  had  been  relating  to  him  the  beauty  of 
the  scenery  about  Boltoii  Abbey  and  of  the  ruins 
of  the  Abbey  itself;  he  was  much  interested,  and 
expressed  a  desire  to  visit  them ;  but  then  came  the 
question  of  starting  in  time.  We  were  in  Hull,  and 
had  to  return  to  Leeds  to  take  a  train  to  Skipton, 
from  which  we  were  to  take  a  carriage  to  the  Abbey. 
The  train  started  about  half-past  eight  a.m.  What 
was  to  be  done?  Calling  was  useless,  so  it  was 
arranged  I  should  pull  him  out  of  bed.  When  I 
found  him  peacefully  slumbering,  ivmorse  seized  me 
for  a  moment,  and  I  felt  inclined  to  leave  him  to 
his  repose  and  make  the  expedition  alone;  then  I 
thought  perhaps  he  might  feel  disappointed  if  I  left 
him,  so  I  pulled  down  the  bed  clothes  and  literally 
hauled  him  out.  I  must  admit,  he  was  much  more 
good-natured  than  I  should  have  been  myself.  I 
went  into  the  station,  took  the  tickets,  and  stood 
watching  the  clock  until  the  finger  pointed  to  two 
minutes  before  starting  time.  I  told  the  guard  of 


350         REMINISCENCES    OF  CHARLES  SANTI.EY 

my  anxiety  about  my  friend,  and  as  lie  knew  me  he 
promised  to  delay  the  train  two  minutes.  I  had 
given  up  all  hope,  when  I  descried  Mario,  hat  in 
hand,  rushing  frantically  towards  the  ticket-office. 
I  rushed  after  him,  seized  him  by  the  collar,  and  did 
not  let  go  until  I  landed  him  safely  in  a  carriage. 
In  a  few  moments  he  was  fast  asleep,  so  I  left  him 
in  peace  until  we  arrived  at  Leeds ;  we  went  across 
to  the  other  train,  and  just  as  that  was  about  to 
depart  I  missed  him.  Half  asleep  when  he  left  the 
train  from  Hull,  he  had  left  his  hat  behind  him,  so 
again  I  had  to  ask  the  indulgence  of  the  guard.  We 
ultimately  arrived  all  safe  and  sound  at  the  Abbey, 
and  when  we  returned  to  Leeds  in  the  evening  he 
told  me  he  had  never  enjoyed  a  day  so  much  in  his 
life.  "But  I  should  not  have  gone,"  said  he,  "if  you 
had  not  pulled  me  out  of  bed." 

When  we  were  not  engaged  in  the  evening  we 
used  to  settle  ourselves  after  dinner  for  a  good 
smoke  and  chat;  the  former  we  plied  so  vigorously 
that  we  were  literally  among  the  clouds.  One  even- 
ing our  topic  of  conversation  fell  on  the  wonderful 
conquests  some  of  our  comrades,  according  to  their 
own  accounts,  were  constantly  making.  He  told  me 
that  with  one  exception,  all  the  conquests  he  had 
ever  been  cognisant  of  had  been  old  women  ;  as  lie 
said,  it  was  somewhat  strange,  he  having  always  been 
a  very  attractive  man.  One  instance  he  related  to 
me,  whilst  he  was  still  studying  preparatory  to  his 
debut  at  the  Paris  opera.  He  had  received  several 


REMINISCENCES    OF  CHARLES  S.LVTLEY        351 

notes  from  an  unknown  correspondent  of  the  fair 
sex;  at  last,  with  a  billi't  </«"./•.  came  a  truffled  tur- 
key from  Chabot's.  This  seemed  more  to  the  pur- 
pose; so  Mario  invited  some  friends  to  dispose  of  it 
at  supper.  A  few  days  after  another  note  arrived, 
inviting  him  to  a  rendezvous  in  some  church,  at  eight 
a.m.,  on  a  certain  day.  Mario  did  not  relish  rising 
so  early,  but  as  he  was  curious  to  set-  what  his  cor- 
respondent was  like,  he  stretched  a  point,  or  several, 
I  should  rather  say,  and  repaired  to  the  church  at 
the  appointed  time.  He  could  not  discern  anybody 
answering  to  the  description  of  a  passionate  admirer, 
and  was  on  the  point  of  leaving,  mass  being  over. 
when  in  the  porch  he  was  accosted  by  an  elderly 
female,  who,  after  inquiring  his  name,  begged  him 
to  wait  a  moment,  as  her  mistress  desired  a  fe\v 
moments'  conversation  with  him.  He  politely  re- 
mained; at  length  the  lady  appeared,  a  charmer  of 
upwards  of  seventy  years  of  age  ;  he  could  not  help 
laughing  at  himself,  spite  of  the  adventure  having  de- 
prived him  of  three  or  four  hours'  sleep  :  but  the  tur- 
key troubled  his  conscience.  He  had  no  money  to 
spare  at  that  time,  and  restitution  must  be  made,  so 
he  exacted  a  contribution  from  some  of  those  who  had 
assisted  at  the  banquet,  and  a  truffled  turkey  was 
returned  to  the  lady  with  compliments. 

Two  anecdotes  which  he  related  to  me,  being  de- 
cidedly characteristic,  will,  I  think,  be  interesting  to 
my  readers,  and  cannot  offend  any  of  his  relations 
still  living,  lie  was  driving  up  from  Fulham  to  the 


352         REMIXISCEXCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

theatre  one  evening,  when  a  costermonger  got  in  the 
way  of  his  carriage  with  his  cart  and  donkey,  which 
were  upset  and  the  vegetables  strewed  all  about. 
An  altercation  ensued  between  the  coachman  and  the 
costermonger;  Mario  put  his  head  out  of  the  window 
and,  giving  his  name  and  address,  said  he  would  be 
responsible  for  any  damage.  On  arriving  at  the 
theatre,  he  told  Lumley  what  had  happened,  and 
asked  him  to  settle  the  matter  for  ten  pounds.  Lum- 
ley insisted  it  was  too  much,  and  refused  to  give  the 
coster  more  than  five  pounds.  Some  angry  corre- 
spondence followed,  which  ended  in  the  coster  bring- 
ing an  action  against  Mario  for  damages.  At  the 
trial  a  number  of  witnesses,  who  were  not  present 
at  the  catastrophe,  swore  to  the  coachman  being  in 
fault;  Mario  lost  the  case,  and  was  mulcted  in  a 
heavy  sum  for  damages  and  costs.  He  left  imme- 
diately after  for  the  Continent,  and  did  not  return 
to  London  for  some  time,  when,  amongst  other  docu- 
ments which  had  not  been  forwarded,  he  found  a  bill 
of  ,£250  for  costs  and  damages,  Avith  the  addition  of 
.£200  for  contempt  of  court,  he  having  neglected  to 
settle  the  amount  on  the  proper  day. 

When  he  lived  at  Clapham,  he  had  a  friend  who 
took  charge  of  the  house  during  his  absence.  The 
friend  noticed  that  the  gardener,  without  permission, 
disposed  of  the  fruit  and  vegetables  grown  on  the 
premises.  Being  determined  to  act  as  a  faithful 
steward,  he  remonstrated  with  the  gardener,  though 
to  no  purpose,  for  the  fruit  and  vegetables  were  still 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SAXTLEY       353 

unlawfully  disposed  of.  On  Mario's  return,  his  friend 
made  such  a  fuss  that,  to  satisfy  him,  he  gave  him 
permission  to  bring  the  man  up  to  justice.  He  was 
summoned  before  the  police-court;  Mario  had  to  turn 
out  at  some  (to  him)  very  early  hour;  the  rase  came 
on,  when  it  was  found  that  the  gardener  was  a  left- 
handed  relation  of  Mario's  landlord,  and  after  a  con- 
sultation between  the  lawyers  it  was  agreed  to  stop 
the  action.  Mario  thought  there  would  be  no  further 

O 

trouble  and  he  would  get  off  with  a  small  account 
from  his  solicitor.  His  surprise  was  great  when  he 
found  that  after  his  early  rising,  and,  as  he  thought, 
pardoning  a  malefactor,  he  had  to  pay  costs  on  both 
sides,  which  amounted  to  about  £400. 

Of  Madames  Miolan-Carvalho  and  Alboni  I  have 
already  spoken.  They  were  as  different  personally 
and  artistically  as  two  human  beings  could  possibly 
be ;  yet  they  had  one  trait  in  common :  at  rehearsal 
I  remarked  that  both  of  them  employed  their  unoc- 
cupied time  in  knitting  stockings. 

A  great  artist  who  had  a  line  of  his  own  I  cannot 
refrain  from  mentioning ;  he  was  one  of  my  earliest 
adorations,  I  heard  him  first  when  I  was  about  thir- 
teen or  fourteen  years  of  age  —  John  Parry  !  He 
was  unique  !  inimitable  !  I  had  the  great  pleasure  of 
knowing  him  personally  and  numbering  him  among 
my  friends  for  some  years  before  he  died,  and  I  had 
once  the  felicity  of  appearing  at  a  performance  with 
him.  We  both  went  on  in  "The  School  for  Scandal," 
at  Buckstone's  benefit,  at  Drury  Lane  some  years 


354         REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

ago ;  I  sang  the  song  "  Here's  to  the  maiden,"  which 
he  accompanied  on  an  old  piano.  I  dressed  in  the 
same  room  with  Charles  Mathews  and  Parry ;  I 
laughed  so  much  at  Parry's  flashes  of  wit  that  I 
had  to  beg  of  him  for  mercy's  sake  to  be  quiet,  or 
I  should  not  have  a  scrap  of  voice  left  to  sing  the 
song. 


CHAITKI!   XXIII 

Retrospect  and  Prospect  —  Tin-   Ilult'-Amatrnr — Academies  and 

Students — A   Musical  Lord    Ma\or  —  A  National  Scliunl  and  a 
National  Theatre  —  A  Lesson  from  Abroad. 

IN  concluding  this  portion  of  my  memoirs,  there 
are  many  points  connected  with  my  art  which  the 
public  might  expect  me  to  discuss,  hut  the  fact  of  my 
being  still  in  the  active  pursuit  of  my  profession 
prevents  me.  There  is  one,  however,  which  I  would 
like  to  offer  to  the  notice  of  those  who  are  interested 
—  the  enormous  increase  in  the  number  of  students  of 
music,  and  the  limited  opportunities  for  making  their 
talents  available  when  their  studies  are  completed  : 
and  I  would  propose  two  questions  for  their  consid- 
eration :  How  many  of  these  students  possess  the 
necessary  natural  qualifications  to  justify  them  in 
adopting  music  as  a  profession?  And  what  oppor- 
tunities have  those  who  make  music  a  profession  of 
exercising  it? 

It  may  be  said  that  most  of  them  study  with  the 
sole  object  of  becoming  better  acquainted  with  music. 
in  order  to  enjoy  its  performance  more  thoroughly. 
I  do  not  believe  it,  and  I  feel  no  diffidence  about  say- 
ing so,  when  I  see  the  abundance  of  half-amateur 
element  which  has  crept  into  the  profession  in  the 

355 


356         REMINISCENCES    OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

course  of  the  last  few  years.  Ambition  to  shine  in 
public  as  performers,  in  the  majority  of  cases,  over- 
rules their  ostensible  intention ;  and  defended  from 
criticism  under  the  cloak  of  the  amateur,  they  appear 
in  public  performances  where  they  do  not  advance 
the  cause  of  art,  and  where  they  often  deprive  young 
deserving  professionals  of  engagements  on  which  they 
are  dependent  for  their  livelihood. 

In  the  year  1860  the  Royal  Academy  of  Music  was 
the  only  institution  of  the  kind  in  London,  if  not  in 
England.  Since  then  have  been  established  the  Royal 
College  of  Music,  Trinity  College,  and  the  Guildhall 
School  of  Music,  besides  a  host  of  other  academies, 
schools,  or  conservatories  in  the  suburbs  of  London 
and  in  the  provinces.  In  1860  there  were  seventy 
students  in  the  Royal  Academy  of  Music.  At  the 
present  time,  taking  all  the  academies  together,  I 
think  I  am  within  the  mark  when  I  estimate  the 
number  of  musical  students  in  Great  Britain  at  10,000, 
and  there  is  very  little  increase  in  the  opportunities 
for  making  their  talents  available  when  their  studies 
are  completed. 

In  a  prospectus  issued  by  the  promoters  of  the 
Royal  College  of  Music,  one  of  the  reasons  assigned 
for  its  institution  was  the  probability  of  its  leading  to 
the  establishment  of  a  national  opera.  The  college 
has  been  in  existence  ten  years,  and  the  probability 
remains  just  as  improbable  as  ever!  A  few  years 
ago,  the  then  Lord  Mayor  convened  a  meeting  at  the 
Mansion  House  to  discuss  the  question  of  establishing 


REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY        357 

a  national  opera.  Two  men,  Sims  Reeves  and  my- 
self, with  our  experience,  could  have  been  of  great 
service  in  such  a  discussion  ;  we  were  neither  of  us 
invited  to  attend  the  meeting.  I  never  heard  any- 
thing about  the  proceedings,  but  I  believe  they  ended 
in  —  smoke ! 

If  people  will  insist  upon  spending  money  in  the 
study  of  an  art  for  which  they  do  not  possess  the 
necessary  qualifications,  and  find  schools  ready  to 
receive  them,  nobody  lias  a  right  to  interfere  either 
with  the  students  or  with  the  schools ;  but  if  the 
nation  desires  to  have  a  conservatory,  where  those 
possessing  natural  artistic  qualifications  can  be  edu- 
cated, the  nation  must  be  prepared  to  endow  an 
institution  with  sufficient  means  to  maintain  and 
educate  the  students  free  of  cost,  and  to  pay  efficient 
masters  such  emolument  as  will  enable  them  to  devote 
their  chief  attention  to  those  students.  Only  those 
students  must  be  admitted  who,  after  a  rigorous 
examination,  are  found  to  possess  the  necessary  qual- 
ifications. Moreover,  every  student  must  submit  to 
further  examinations  at  the  expiration  of  six  months, 
and  again  after  twelve  months'  study,  in  order  to 
verify  the  result  of  the  first  examination,  and  deter- 
mine whether  the  progress  made  be  sufficient  to 
justify  the  student  being  permitted  to  continue  his 
or  her  studies. 

Again,  the  nation  must  provide  a  home  for  those 
she  has  educated ;  there  must  be  a  national  theatre 
in  each  of  the  principal  cities  in  Great  Britain,  where 
opera,  oratorio,  or  concerts  can  be  given 


35S         REMINISCENCES   OF  CHARLES  SANTLEY 

This  may  all  read  like  a  wild  dream ;  it  is  nothing 
of  the  kind,  and  can  be  done  if  there  is  the  will. 
The  money  wasted  on  teaching  Board  and  other 
school  children  nothing,  would  amply  suffice  to  ac- 
complish all  I  have  suggested. 

In  Germany  and  France  it  is  done,  and  in  one 
country,  if  not  in  both,  the  artists,  after  a  term  of 
service,  are  entitled  to  a  pension  on  retiring  from 
the  theatre  to  which  they  have  been  attached,  the 
enjoyment  of  which  does  not  preclude  them  from 
exercising  their  art  in  their  own  country  or  elsewhere 
as  long  as  they  feel  inclined,  or  their  powers  permit 
them. 

If  these  things  can  be  achieved  in  other  countries, 
surely  in  rich  England  they  are  possible. 

In  conclusion,  I  beg  to  say  I  am  not  actuated  by 
any  personal  considerations.  I  speak  on  behalf  of 
my  young  professional  sisters  and  brothers,  for  whom, 
as  at  present  musical  education  and  performance  with 
regard  to  them  is  carried  on,  I  see  little  else  than 
disappointment. 


THE     EXD. 


THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

CHARLES   SAMUEL   KEENE 

OF  "PUNCH." 

BY  GEORGE  SOMERS  LAYARD. 

ll'ith  Portraits  and  over  Eighty  Illustrations.      Bound  in  buckram, 
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"  Among  the  documents  for  the  study  of  future  days  of  middle-class  and  of 
humble  English  life,  none  will  be  more  weighty  than  the  vivid  sketches  of  this  great 
humorist."  —  SIR  FREDERICK  LEIGHTON,  P.R.A. 

"  Mr.  Layard  has  brought  to  the  task  abundant  ability,  and  spared  no  pains.  It 
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and  that  it  is  done  throughout  in  that  painstaking,  truth-loving,  and  racy  way  which 
is  always  the  highest  homage  to  the  worthy  dead,  and  which  none  would  have 
desired  more  than  CHARLES  K.EEXE.  .  .  . 

"  An  altogether  charming  memoir,  and  one  of  the  most  delightful  in  its  class, 
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LIFE  OF  GUSTAVE  DORE. 

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GROVE'S  DICTIONARY 

OF 

MUSIC   AND  MUSICIANS 


A  Dictionary  of  Music  and    Musicians  (A.D.  1450- 

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Tribune. 

"  This  Dictionary  is  by  far  the  most  valuable  contribution  to  the  literature  of 
music  that  has  ever  been  published." —  Cincinnati  Commercial. 

"  The  amount  of  information  of  the  greatest  use  to  musicians  and  amateurs  col- 
lected in  this  carefully  prepared  work  makes  it  indispensable  to  every  musical 
library.  In  fact,  it  is  a  little  library  in  itself."  —  Boston  Saturday  Evening 
Gazette. 

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long  been  felt,  and  is  at  last  furnished.  It  should  be  in  the  hands  of  every  student  of 
music."  —  Boston  Home  Journal. 

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dictionary  of  music  that  has  ever  yet  appeared.  .  .  .  For  the  earnest  seeker  after 
musical  information,  for  one  who  wishes  to  go  to  the  bottom  of  the  matter  and  really 
understand  things,  such  a  dictionary  as  Mr.  Grove's  is  greatly  needed.  The  musician 
needs  it  as  well  as  the  amateur;  and  students  of  music,  such  as  throng  our  '  conserv- 
atories '  and  '  schools,'  ought  every  one  of  them  to  possess  a  book  so  thoroughly  well 
prepared  for  them."  —  Diuight's  Journal  of  Music. 

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'  Encyclopaedia,'  for  the  editor  has  included  in  his  scheme  everything  that  belongs  to 
music,  or  is  allied,  or  is  even  distantly  related  to  it.  It  would  be  a  great  mistake  to 
regard  this  work  as  useful  only  for  the  purposes  of  reference.  It  is  a  collection  of 
interesting  and  valuable  articles  on  all  kinds  of  musical  subjects,  which  amateurs, 
who  take  a  genuine  interest  in  the  art  they  profess  to  love,  will  read  from  beginning 
to  end."  —  Daily  News. 


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